


Vigilante's Run - Original

by STMPD



Series: Bubblegum Crucible [2]
Category: Bubblegum Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 65,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/STMPD/pseuds/STMPD
Summary: A high-tech Vigilante has declared war on the city's largest Yakuza gang. Soon, the entire city is a battleground as the shadow war shakes MegaTokyo's Underworld. Can the Knight Sabers avoid being drawn into the conflict?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this ain't mine - it's by a certain Craig A. Reed Jr, which I dug out of a Geocities archive. That's right, folks, having not been updated since 2003, this is finely aged fanfic, like fine wine.  
> Fortunately, Mr. Reed, who is now a published author (go read his books!), has given me permission to keep this up at AO3, so sit back, relax, and enjoy some hyperviolence.

Area between Piers 234 and 235  
District 9  
February 10, 2036  
3:48 a.m.

The hard faced man stopped to light a cigarette. Taking a long drag, he stared out into   
the darkness. He readjusted the assault rifle sling to a more comfortable position, and silently   
cursed his luck. The warehouses nearby were the only witnesses to the man's anger.

The shoreline warehouse district was deserted at this time of the night. No one came down   
here after dark. Even the normal police didn't patrol this area too tightly, and the only thing   
that would get the AD Police down here this time of night would be a runaway Boomer. 

The boss was adamant that the area was to be heavily guarded while the cargo was unloaded   
from the ship. The man snorted in disgust at his boss's caution. No one would be stupid enough   
to attack a warehouse owned by the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza. Even the AD Police would think twice  
before raiding the dock. 

But the boss wouldn't listen. If the rumors were right this time, he might have reason to   
overreact. There were stories circulating among the men about disasters on the US West Coast.   
Several important operations had supposedly been wiped out by an unknown strike force. And the   
Boss did look and sound agitated when he'd addressed the men before he sent them out to patrol   
the area. 

The guard shrugged. Maybe there was something going on. All he knew for certain that here   
he was, walking a guard post on the edge of the security perimeter. All because Kenichi owes   
me three thousand Yen from last week's card game. He took another drag from his cigarette.   
This way, if the police try a surprise raid, I'm dead, or in prison, and Kenichi doesn't have   
to pay me ANYTHING.

He was so wrapped up in his anger, he failed to hear the scraping sound at first. When he   
did, he stood there, trying to place the sound. It sounded like metal scraping against concrete,   
coming from between two warehouses twenty meters away. 

Clumsily, he unslung his rifle, reached for the radio, then hesitated. The boss has us   
spooked, he thought. He sees police everywhere, and now he has us jumping at shadows. Care-  
lessly, he dropped his cigarette, and crushed it out with his shoe. He pulled the rifle's   
bolt back, released it and slowly moved toward the sound.

The hardman was ten meters from the nearest warehouse when he saw something move toward   
him. He raised his rifle and -

Something hard and sharp slammed into his torso. He dropped the rifle, and stared down at   
the metal spike planted deep in his chest. Moving slowly, he reached up to pull it out, only to   
have his knees give way. With a look of shock on his face, he fell onto his side. The last thing   
he saw before the darkness took him was the night sky.

A shadow detached itself from the blackness, stared down at the dead guard for several   
seconds, then moved on, leaving the dead man in a growing pool of blood.

 

=======================================================

Pier 234  
District 9  
February 10, 2036  
3:56 a.m.

The pier was lit up brightly for this time of night. Most of the lights were directed at   
an aging cargo ship docked alongside the pier. One hundred forty meters long, the rust streaked   
sides gave the hull an unhealthy look, and the ship's superstructure looked ill and unkept.   
Forward of the ship's bridge, a single large cargo hatch was open in the ship's hull. The small   
army of trucks on the pier could drive directly onto the ship to receive the cargo. 

For this delivery, the ship was called Akagi Maru, but names meant nothing to the ship's   
captain, or his crew. Its cargo also meant little more then earning a huge profit. This time it   
was a load of weapons bound for an insurgent movement somewhere in southeast Asia. Tomorrow, it   
would be another cargo for another destination.

On the pier itself, Hoshi, the man in charge of the unloading of the weapons watched the   
operation nervously. Tall and thin, he looked more like an undertaker then an underboss in the   
Yakuza. In this case, looks were deceiving, for Hoshi was ruthless when he had to be. It was   
this combination of looks and merciless where needed that marked him as an up and comer in the  
organization. Tonight was an important step toward securing his future. 

But Hoshi was still nervous. The Oyabun's orders were clear and precise when Hoshi was   
informed of the responsibility of guarding the shipment that afternoon. "You cannot let   
anyone   
interfere with this operation," the Oyabun said to him. "Our recent setbacks in the United   
States have come close to crippling us. The entire organization is at risk. Do not fail us."   
The Oyabun did not elaborate on the setbacks in the US, and that worried Hoshi.

He motioned to one of his lieutenants, a moon-faced man by the name of Kenichi, who was   
standing nearby. As the man rushed over, Hoshi thought again of the security he'd arranged for   
this operation. He commanded forty of the organization's soldiers tonight, bolstered by two   
dozen of the best prospects from the local gangs. All were armed with assault rifles or machine   
guns, and all were old hands at extreme violence. A dozen soldiers were arrayed in a perimeter   
guard, ready to raise the alarm at the first sign of trouble. The rest stayed close to the ship,  
ready to react to any threat as Hoshi saw fit. 

Kenichi came to a stop next to Hoshi. "Yes Hoshi-sama?"

"I want the perimeter guard to start checking in every five minutes from here on out,   
instead of every fifteen minutes."

Kenichi looked puzzled, but nodded. He spoke into a hand-held communicator, and listen   
for several seconds. He frowned and spoke into the communicator again. After several more   
seconds, he looked up, and Hoshi saw the look of fear. "Hoshi-sama?"

Hoshi stared at him. "What is it?"

"Sir, Wantebe has failed to respond to the new orders."

"What is his post?"

"Sector seven," replied Kenichi, pointing off toward pier 235. "Permission to send a   
team to investigate?"

"Yes. Tell them -"

A loud hissing sound announced the arrival of Hoshi's worse fears. A dozen missiles flew   
out of the night, and struck a trio of trucks parked near the unloading ship. The explosions   
tore open the night sky with brilliant light, turning the trucks and their cargo into piles of   
burning wrecks. Shouts and screams echoed along with smaller explosions and the cracking of   
flames.

Hoshi grabbed Kenichi and yelled, "Take five men and get the rest of the trucks off this   
pier!" As the startled hardman dashed off into the night, Hoshi quietly pulled out a pistol and   
knelt behind a small pile of packing crates. He saw two of his lieutenants start to rally the   
surviving soldiers. Several of them headed in Hoshi's direction, and he waved them over to the   
safety of the crates.

The leader, a thin man by the name of Usago told Hoshi, "Sir, Fujahema wanted us to try   
to pin down the bastards while he and Tanaka flanks them."

The Yakuza underboss pointed to the dark outline of the pier's warehouse "The missiles   
came from there."

"Right." 

Hoshi grabbed a hand communicator from his pocket. "Hoshi to Akagi Maru. When I give the   
word, I want you to shine your searchlights at the warehouse."

"Akagi Maru to Hoshi." The voice sounded panicked. "We're getting out of here -"

"If you value your life, or your business dealings with us," snarled Hoshi. "You will do   
as I order. Understand?"

The voice sounded resigned. "Akagi Maru understands. We're manning the searchlights   
now."

Usago and his men opened fire where Hoshi had pointed. From other parts of the pier,   
more soldiers opened fire at the warehouse, and for twenty seconds there was nothing but the   
ripping of automatic weapons. Hoshi watched as a couple dozen lines of fire converged on the   
darkened warehouse. As the fire continued, Hoshi saw two groups of men make a short dash toward   
the warehouse, careful to stay out of their comrade's fire.

Then came silence, as the street soldiers exchanged empty magazines in their weapons for   
full ones. The two groups reached the warehouse, and Hoshi saw both Tanaka and Fujahema motion   
their readiness. Hoshi turned and waved to the ship. Several beams of light reached out from   
the ship, and focused in on the large squat building. Without hesitating, the soldiers charged   
through the open doors into the warehouse.

The high-pitched whine of a minigun starting up alerted Hoshi that something was wrong.   
For thirty seconds, there was nothing but the rattle of two dozen automatic weapons, accent-  
uated with the minigun's reply, and several screams of pain and terror. Hoshi looked at Usago   
in worry.

From inside the warehouse, there were several shouted orders to retreat. The minigun   
stopped firing. Half a dozen mobsters stumbled out of the warehouse. Several of the mobsters   
turned and fired backed into the warehouse. The minigun opened up again, and all the retreating   
gangsters were cut down in a matter of seconds. 

The minigun stopped long enough to change targets, then opened up on the Akagi Maru,   
sending several dozen rounds smashing through the ship's searchlights. The lights shattered,   
plunging the warehouse into darkness again. The minigun then moved onto the lights surrounding   
the pier, and destroyed them in a shower of explosions.

In the meantime, Kenichi and his men reached the remaining trucks. In a matter of seconds,   
the trucks were driving off into the darkness. After the sounds of the trucks faded, there was   
silence for several seconds.

Hoshi hands were clammy as he spoke into the communicator. "Tanaka, Fujahema, report!   
What happened?" Silence answered him. "This is Hoshi! Tanaka, answer me! Fujahema, report! What   
happened?"

An electronic hiss was followed by a cold voice that chilled Hoshi to the bone. "They   
can't answer, Hoshi," the voice answered in perfect Japanese. "None of your men you sent in   
here can answer you now."

"Who is this?" the Yakuza leader demanded, his gut burning with anger and fear.

"You can call me Nemesis," the voice replied.

"Who do you work for?"

"I work for no one, Hoshi, save Justice." 

Another volley of missiles flew out of the surrounding darkness and slammed into the   
Akagi Maru's hull. The missiles tore through the metal and added their explosions to the   
symphony of destruction already occurring on the pier.

The graveyard voice said, "Tell your Oyabun that the days of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza   
are numbered. I am here to collect a debt that can only be paid in blood - his blood." 

Out of the darkness, Hoshi saw a shadow moving. Was it one of his men? No, it moved too   
calmly, too assured, as if it owned the battlefield. Shouting to the men near him to open fire,   
Hoshi raised his pistol to fire at the shadow. 

But something slammed into his shoulder, knocking him over. He screamed in pain, but the   
scream was drowned out by the minigun's whine. The crates that he and his men had been used as   
a shield offered no protection against the minigun's fire. The rounds cut through the crates,   
and stabbed into the men shielding behind them. After several seconds, the minigun's whine died   
away.

Hoshi got up slowly, and stared at the spike sticking out of his shoulder. Blood streamed   
from around the wound, spreading slowly across his shirt. The pistol dropped from his now life-  
less hand, and clattered to the ground. A charge of pain shot through his body, crumpling him   
to his knees. He gritted his teeth, fighting hard to prevent the wave of unconsciousness from   
claiming him.

He heard something moving toward him, and he looked up. A large black figure strode up   
to him and stared down at him. It stood a meter taller then him, its black metal skin gleaming   
in the flames. A large, multi barreled, minigun was attached to the right arm, wisps of smoke   
still coming from the barrels. 

At first, he thought it was a Boomer, but after looking closer, he saw it was a hardsuit   
of some type. A white stylized skull was painted where the face would be. No other markings   
marred its cold back surfaces. With sick certainty, Hoshi knew that this enemy was the one who   
had avoided the tremendous firepower unleashed against the warehouse, and killed his men.

"You will live long enough to tell the Oyabun I am here," the hardsuited figure said,   
the voice still cold and unforgiving.

"You . . . will . . . die," replied Hoshi through gritted teeth. "I swear it."

"Never make promises you can't keep, Hoshi." The hard suited figure turned toward the   
ship. "ATTENTION, ALL CREW MEMBERS OF THE AKAGI MARU!" the figure boomed. "MY NAME IS   
NEMESIS. YOU HAVE THREE MINUTES TO ABANDON SHIP BEFORE THE MINES I HAVE SET AGAINST THE HULL   
DETONATE!"

A small group of Hoshi's men decided to make their attack at that moment. They charged   
at Nemesis from the other side of the pier, guns blazing. Hoshi flinched as his men's bullets   
glanced off the Hardsuit's armor, and flew off into the night. Nemesis turned slowly and watched   
them for several seconds before he raised the minigun and opened fire. The entire group reacted   
as if they hit an invisible wall. After the minigun stopped firing, none of the soldiers were   
standing.

Hoshi stared at their bodies. "You killed them!" he blurted out.

"This is a war, Hoshi-san," replied Nemesis calmly. "They knew the risks, they had their   
chance to walk away. They didn't take it." With that, Nemesis turned and walked away into the   
smoke. 

A number of explosions some distance away made Nemesis turn and look at Hoshi. In the   
smoke, he looked like a demon "That was Kenichi and the trucks he was escorting. I took the   
opportunity to mine the main road against the possibility. You better have someone help you,   
Hoshi. You have only two minutes and thirty seconds before the mines go off."

With that, the figure disappeared into the night, leaving Hoshi in the ruins of his   
failure.


	2. Chapter 2

Pier 234  
District 9  
February 10, 2036  
6:16 a.m.

 

Leon McNichol yawned again. He looked down at the remains of the breakfast sandwich in   
his lap, sighed, and picked it up.

"Well, Doctor," asked Daley Wong. "Professional opinion. Is it eatable?"

"Not after what I saw on the main road," replied Leon, tossing the remains out the car's   
window. "I now know why they banned land mines."

Daley shrugged as he guided the police car to a stop between two warehouses. A group of   
normal police prevented Daley from going any farther. "Messy, but effective. The few mines that   
those trucks didn't hit melted down into a slag of metal before the normal police arrived on   
the scene."

"So, why did the normal police want a couple of AD Inspectors at this time of the   
morning?"

Daley climbed out of the car. "To give them some of our hard won experience in warfare?"

"Funny, Daley," mumbled Leon, as he slammed his door. He stared at Daley over the roof   
of the car. "You took the call. What did they tell you?"

"They said that the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza fought a battle here last night, and came up   
on the short end of the final score."

Leon sighed. "Let's go and find the officer in charge."

They walked the rest of the way, passing through the outer ring of police. They passed   
several police evidence technicians performing a search among the cracked concrete slabs for   
clues. When they come in sight of the pier, they both stopped and stared at the scene of   
carnage. Daley whistled, and Leon muttered, "This wasn't a battle, it was a fracking WAR.

The pier was full of normal police, mostly uniformed, performing a grisly, but necessary   
job. They were moving carefully amongst the shattered remains of burnt out vehicles, shattered   
packing crates, and sheet covered forms that had to be bodies. A worn-looking cargo ship was   
tied up at the end of the pier, and even Leon could see that she was sitting too low in the   
water.

"I wonder who's stupid enough to take on the Yakuza," said Leon quietly.

"Clearly someone with a death wish," replied Daley.

"Who in the hell are you two?" shouted a voice off to their right. 

"Speaking of death wishes," muttered Daley. "Trouble."

A tall, blonde woman with striking features stalked over to them. She glared at them,   
hands on hips. "This is a police matter, so get the hell off -"

"Anderson!" bellowed a male voice. A short, beefy man with a thick neck and eyebrows   
stormed over to the trio. "What are you doing?"

"Ejecting a couple of spectators," she snarled, pointing a thumb at Leon and Daley.

"Anderson," said the man in a low rumbling voice. "Those two 'spectators' are from the   
AD Police. I asked that they be brought in on this case."

"Listen, Captain," hissed Anderson. "I don't need the help of a couple of AD clowns to   
solve this case. I -"

"ENOUGH!" bellowed the Captain. "You will work with them, or you can go on suspension.   
Your choice."

"FINE!" the woman said. She shot the two AD inspectors a venomous glare and stalked off.

"That woman is out to kill me," muttered the Captain. He stuck out a hand. "Captain   
Holmes, Ninth District. Sorry for the reception."

Leon took the hand. "That's all right, Captain. Inspector Leon McNichol. My partner,   
Inspector Daley Wong."

Holmes eyes widen slightly as he shook Daley's hand. "So the chief sent us the first   
team?"

Leon shrugged. "Business is slow this time of year." He looked around. "What do you have   
that needs AD police involvement?"

"Let's hit the highlights." Holmes pointed to the ship. "The Akagi Maru. It's been on   
the Custom Patrol's list for the past five years, under six different names. Somebody planed   
half a dozen mines on its hull, and blew out the bottom. It's got enough illegal weapons still   
in its cargo holds to start a major war."

He motioned to the burnt out truck shells. "Somebody hit those trucks with a missile   
strike. With the weapons they had onboard, I'm surprised the entire pier didn't go up. And   
you saw what happened to the trucks that managed to get off the pier."

Leon gave a low whistle. "And the bodies?"

Holmes gave him a tired smile. "All members of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza proper, or   
allied street gangs. We've got thirty-two confirmed dead, another dozen wounded - of which   
five may not make it through the day."

Daley shrugged. "The Sleeping Dragons having problems with any of the other gangs?"

"No. Sato's too smart to leave himself open to a power struggle. He's set up a non-  
aggression pact with all the other major criminal gangs - if any of them violated the pact,   
the others would crush them."

"So someone's working under the table," said Leon.

Holmes shook his head. "I save the best for last. Over here." He led them toward one of   
the warehouses. There was another grouping of bodies there, as well as something covered with   
a clear sheet of plastic. He pointed to what the sheet covered. "We found this, along with   
several hundred fifteen millimeter shell casings as his calling card." 

Both Daley and Leon looked down at what Holmes pointed to. Someone had burned a large,   
stylish N inside a circle into the concrete slab. That was inside a triangle, which had one   
point directly pointing toward the cargo ship.

"Oh, shit," said Leon in a stunned tone. "Nemesis is here?"

Daley frowned. "Who?"

"Nemesis." Leon's tone became grim. "He's a hi-tech hardsuit vigilante who goes after   
criminal gangs and destroys them with a vengeance. And I mean 'with a vengeance'. He's wiped   
out several organized crime syndicates over the last four years, all based in the USA."

"It has all the earmarks of one of his strikes," said Holmes. "No innocent bystanders,   
the attack planed with military precision and executed without flaw, and this marker. One of   
the wounded was mumbling something about a `skull-faced angel of death' when they loaded him   
into the ambulance."

"Isn't he outside his usual base of operation? This is the first time I've heard him   
operating outside North America."

"We've picked up rumbles that the Sleeping Dragon's had some trouble in San Francisco   
in the last three months. Seems Nemesis is here to finish the job he started in the US."

"Now I know why you wanted the ADP in on this," said Daley, shaking his head. "His hard-  
suit and tactics put him out of your reach, and into ours. This guy could start a gang war   
that'll make the Boomer uprising look tame in comparison."

"Exactly." Holmes face was grim. "Sato won't take this lying down, and he'll be one of   
the more restrained ones. I can think of three gang leaders that would go off the deep end if   
Nemesis hit them, with several others who I wouldn't bet against. We're sitting on a powder   
keg, and Nemesis is playing with matches."

"We're in," said Leon, his tone final. "Anderson's the lead on this case?"

"Yea, and you know how she feels about you guys already. She's solid and tough, but a   
bit too proud for her own good."

"Sounds like a girl I know." Leon adjusted his sunglasses. "Come on Daley, let's charm   
the detective with our wit and charm."

"I've got the wit and charm, what are you supplying?"

"The good looks, of course."

Daley sighed. "Of course."

They walked away from the Captain. Leon's face had a smile, but he was thinking about a   
vigilante named Nemesis . . . 

==========================================================

Holton Junkyard Co.  
District 5  
February 10, 2036  
7:31am

The trash truck drove through the open gates of the junkyard and slowly drove to the rear   
of the yard. Shielded by a high stone wall and several massive piles of junk, no one could see   
the truck drive toward a massive pile of rubbish piled near the back wall. At the last second,   
a portion of the junkpile moved aside, revealing a ramp sloping downwards. Without slowing, the   
trash truck went down the ramp. As soon as the truck passed through, the disguised door closed.   
In a matter of seconds, there was no evidence that there had ever been a truck there.

The ramp was short, and lead into an underground structure a third of the size of a base-  
ball field. An extensive workshop lined one wall of the chamber. Along the opposite wall,   
several prefab rooms held the sleeping areas. Beside the garbage truck, several other vehicles   
were parked in the cavern, ready to be used. Most of the caverns was in darkness, except for  
several small lights scattered around.

The truck glided to a stop in the middle of the cavern. The door opened and the imposing   
figure of Nemesis stepped out. He was followed out by a short, broad-shouldered man with a   
graying crewcut.

"Smitty," said Nemesis in English. "Where are you?"

A short, thin man with sharp features emerged from the darkness. He wore stained over-  
alls, and was wiping his hands on a rag. "Right here, sir," he said in a nasal twang. "How did   
the strike go?"

"Perfect. Sato lost somewhere around three quarters of a billion yen in weapons, a large   
number of men, and a lot of face."

"And we managed to take Hoshi out of the picture for a while," said the man with the   
graying crewcut. "The police channels said he was still alive when they took him into surgery."   
He looked at the hardsuited figure. "I still don't know why you left him breathing."

"I had a good reason, Sarge," said Nemesis. "I wanted Hoshi to tell Sato I was in town."

Smitty moved over to the vigilante. "How did the minigun perform?"

A hiss of air, and Nemesis removed the helmet. "Better then I expected," he replied.   
"The reduction in the size didn't affect the performance in anyway. Tasked with the other   
weapons in this heavy hardsuit, it's a welcome addition to the arsenal."

Smitty broke into a smile. "Need a hand getting out of that?"

Nemesis shook his head. He was younger then either of the other two men, and his dark   
hair wasn't quite as short. Green eyes set far apart in a tanned face that had the look of   
someone who spent much time outside. As he opened his hardsuit, he asked, "Where are Maria   
and the Doc?"

"Still sleeping. They spent a lot of time reworking the electronics over the last few   
days, Sir."

"And it showed. The missiles were right on target, and the railgun worked well." He   
finally stepped out of the hardsuit. "I'm going to take a shower, grab a bite to eat, then   
catch some sleep." 

"I'll double-check the hardsuit over for any problems, then catch some sleep myself,   
Sir."

"Good," replied Nemesis, walking away. "Now that I have Sato's attention, I want to keep   
the pressure on. Sarge, tell Maria when she wakes, I want a list of Sato's top money making   
operations ready for tonight's missions."

"I'll tell her." Sarge's face lost its cheerfulness. "You know Sato's not going to take   
this lying down."

"I know," Nemesis turned to look at both of them. "But I can't think of backing off now   
that I have his attention. Sato and the rest are jackals preying on innocent people. They under-  
stand only force, so that is how I reply to them." He walked away, leaving Smitty, Sarge and   
the Hardsuit standing in the middle of the chamber.


	3. Chapter 3

AD Police Headquarters  
February 10, 2036  
9:32am

"Nene!"

Nene Romanov turned at the sound of her name. Leon had just stuck his head in the small   
room that held the ADP's computer security office, a smile on his face. Daley stood behind him,   
looking bemused. Now what? she thought, watching the two of them stride into the room. Uh-oh,   
Leon's smiling at me. This could be trouble.

She'd been a sergeant for over a month now, and already she was wondering if maybe she'd   
made a mistake in accepting the promotion. Sure, there was a hefty increase in pay, but her   
responsibilities had increased tenfold. 

Daley had promoted her to the position of "Computer Security Officer," which meant she   
had to keep the Hackers out of the ADP computer systems. Of course, since she was one of the   
Hackers who regularly slipped into the system, she knew most of the in and outs already. Several   
holes the systems she and Alan Tremolini, the other half of the ADP's Computer Security Office,   
managed to plug with some success, but several others were not easy to correct. THEY were driv-  
ing her crazy. 

They didn't seem to affect Alan though. Linna had said he was even tempered, but Nene   
hadn't realized HOW even tempered he was. I wonder what would happen if I lit off a fire-  
cracker under Alan's chair . . . 

She shoved those thoughts aside, and smiled at Leon. "What's up, Leon?" she asked   
brightly.

Leon smiled back. "I need all the data you can find on a vigilante who calls himself   
Nemesis. His usual base of operations is North America, so see if you can get into the FBI   
computers. How soon can you get the data?"

"Give me a couple of hours," replied Nene thoughtfully. "What happened?"

"It appears that Nemesis has taken a working vacation," replied Daley "And chosen Mega-  
Tokyo for his trip." He briefly outlined what happened in District 9. Nene eyes widened as   
Daley described the scene on the pier. 

After Daley finished, Nene nodded. "I'll get right on it. Can you give me a couple of   
hours?"

Leon pulled something out of his wallet and laid it on Nene's desk. She swallowed her   
shout of glee as she saw it was a dessert coupon from Siroccos. "Make that an hour and a half,"   
she amended, picking up the coupon and slipping it into her purse.

"Thanks, Nene. I know I could count on you." Leon glanced at his watch. "We'd better   
get moving Daley. We have a briefing with Detective Anderson in half an hour. I hope she's in   
a better mood then she was this morning."

"Don't blame me," replied Daley as they left. "I was witty and charming. She just wasn't   
impressed with your good looks."

"That's what I like about you, Daley. Your sense of tact."

Nene looked at her computer screen as the two officers left her. Now, where to start?   
INTERPOL for the basics, the FBI for the details I think. I think Sylia might want to know   
what's going on.

Alan Tremolini walked in, a steaming cup of tea in one hand, a file under his arm.   
"Morning, Boss," he said cheerfully. He was of medium height, squat, average looking, and wore   
glasses. His dark hair, with a few white hairs showing, was shorter and neater then it had been   
when Nene first met him, and he was clean shaven. 

"Morning," Nene mumbled back.

Alan placed the tea on his desk, looked at Nene over his glasses, then sat. He stretched.   
"What are you doing?" he asked in disinterested tone.

"Leon wants data on a vigilante who calls himself Nemesis. They think he was behind an   
attack in District 9 last night."

"Nemesis? Hold on, I think I can help there." Alan opened a drawer in his desk and   
starting sorting through a pile of computer disks. After several minutes, he pulled one out of   
the pile and handed it to Nene. "This should cut out most of your work."

Nene glanced down at the disk. Printed in garish red ink across the top was the word   
NEMESIS. She looked at Alan. "How do you happen to have this?" she asked.

Alan shrugged. "I'm an informational packrat by nature. When things get slow, I go out   
into the computer networks, looking for interesting data." He held out several more disks for   
Nene's inspection. She noted that two of them were marked KNIGHT SABERS. 

"How current is this?" she asked, holding up the Nemesis disk.

"Should be within a couple of months." 

"Can I use this?"

Alan shrugged. "Why not? I'm sure not getting much use out of it."

"Thanks, I owe you one."

"No problem. What's on the docket today, Boss?"

Nene turned back to her own computer, inserted the disk, and skimmed its contents. Alan   
hadn't been kidding when he'd said the disk was current. "Give me fifteen minutes to update   
the disk from the FBI files, and then we'll start by seeing if we can plug that hole in the air   
duct monitoring sub system."

"I'll start by double checking several of the smaller modules first."

"It's a plan. Let's get to it."

After several minutes of working, Nene slipped out of her cubical and snuck a peek at   
Alan. He'd slipped on his earphones, and was lost in the music and lines of code. Moving   
quickly, Nene slipped out an empty data disk out of her purse, and inserted it into the other   
disk drive. In a matter of minutes, she'd copied all the data from Alan's disk onto the empty   
disk, including the updates from the FBI. Another glance to make sure that Alan was still  
occupied, and the copy disk went back into her purse.

"All done," she called out. 

"Good. I've checked module F-12 through F-23. Why don't you start with module F-24, and   
check the even number modules, I'll take the odd number ones."

"Fine by me."

They spent the next hour tracing and eliminating security holes in the air duct moni-  
toring sub system. Nene sighed as two of her back doors into the system were eliminated, but   
she couldn't do anything about it. Despite his laid back attitude, Alan was no slouch in the   
programming department. Anything she'd tried to weave into the modules now, he'd spot.

She glanced up at the clock, and noticed it was close to eleven. She stood up and picked   
up the disk. "Time for a break. I'd better run this Nemesis file up to Leon now."

"Want to go have lunch afterwards? My treat."

"As long as it isn't the cafeteria."

He snorted. "There's a little Italian restaurant three blocks from here," he said with   
a shrug. "After looking at all that spaghetti code, I'm ready for the real item."

"All right, you're on. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes."

 

Shikichi Sato's home  
District 4  
February 10, 2036  
10:51am

Shikichi Sato was a small sparse man, neatly groomed, who usually looked more like an   
accountant then the Oyabun of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza. But he didn't look much like an   
accountant now.

He glared at the three men standing in front of him, trying hard not to let his temper   
explode. "Ichitaro, has Hoshi-san regained consciousness yet?" he said in a low, tight voice.

"No sir," replied the man in the middle. Norihisa Ichitaro was a thin man with a high   
forehead and a pained look on his face. He was the gang's wakagashira, or second in command,   
and one of the few people Sato trusted completely. It was his job to uncover the facts behind   
the destruction of the weapon shipment. "According to my sources at the hospital, he has lost   
a lot of blood. He is not expected to awaken for several hours still. He told one of the men   
before he passed out that Nemesis was here."

Sato glanced at the man on his left. "What about those that survive the attack on the   
pier? What is their story?"

Kazuo Honjuji was the youngest man in the room by more then a decade. A smooth-faced   
man, he appeared too weak to be a criminal boss. But he'd earned his position as so-honbucho,   
or headquarters chief, through his own hard work combined with a streak of practical ruthless-  
ness. "They all agree that it was one person in a hardsuit," he said carefully. "And the   
description of the hardsuit matches the one Nemesis wore in San Francisco when he disrupted   
our operations there."

Sato felt his anger building. "I want security at all operations increased. Use every   
available man and weapon. How many Jager battlesuits do we have?"

"Twelve," replied Ichitaro. "We have enough experienced men to man them all."

The Oyabun nodded. "We'll use them as our mobile reaction force. If Nemesis attacks one   
of our targets, our men are to fight to hold him there, while the reaction force moves in."

"What about the combat Boomers we have?" asked Masahiro Satoru, the man standing on   
Sato's right. He was a small sparse man wearing an expensively tailored suit. As one of Sato's   
saiko koman, or senior advisers, he was mostly concerned with Sato's image to the city and   
the rest of the world. His normal expression of pleasant indulgence had been replaced with   
concern. "Might it be advisable to use them instead of the Jagers?"

"Only if we need to," replied Sato. "We have to show the others we can handle a lone mad-  
man without resorting to the level of violence that Boomers represent. One should not use a   
spear to kill a tiger if a bow and arrow will suffice."

"And if we cannot?"

"Then we will use the Boomers."

"What do we tell the others gang leaders?" asked Honjuji. Part of his responsibilities   
was dealing with the other major organized criminal gangs in the city.

"We tell them to take precautions with their own business, but stay out of the way   
otherwise. Nemesis has taken action only against us so far, so he is our problem for now."

Sato looked at each of them. "This single man has come close to undoing everything we   
have built in the last two hundred years," he said slowly, letting his words hang in the air.   
"If we are to survive, we must kill him. We must do so as an example to others that might think   
we are weak and open to being challenged. I will not tolerate failure this time, because failure   
would mean our destruction. You have your orders, go."

 

Holton Junkyard Co.  
District 5  
February 10, 2036  
12:39pm

Gaven sat at the table and sipped his coffee. On the table, there were several computer-  
generated readouts. "An interesting selection of targets."

The girl sitting across from him smiled. "You think so?" she asked eagerly. "It was   
tough to get it, but I think that's almost everything Sato has an interest in."

"I think we can eliminate the purely legitimate businesses Sato has right now. Too great   
a chance of innocent bystanders getting caught in the cross fire."

"Already did that, big Brother." The girl passed over a smaller stack of paper. 

The vigilante known as Nemesis examined the new list with interest. "Illegal weapons,   
drug labs, Boomer chop shops, brothels, gambling houses . . . . " He looked at his younger   
sister. "Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Sato's own system," she replied with a shrug and a smile. She shared the same green   
eyes as her brother, and they gleamed with delight. "The security system they've got is at   
least three years out of date, and Sato is spending more money on hardware, and almost nothing   
on software."

"You were careful?"

She looked hurt. "Of course. I went through three cutout computer systems, including the   
ADP's, before I went into Sato's system."

He looked at her in disbelief. "You went through the ADP computer system?"

She shrugged. "I wanted to see how good their security was."

"And?"

"And someone's beginning to wise up over there. I saw beginnings of a VERY tight secur-  
ity system being put into place. Another two months, and it would be a challenge to break into   
it."

"In that case, stay away from their system. Use one of the others for your cutout."

"All right." Sensing his mood, she changed the subject. "Are you going out tonight?"

He nodded. "Sarge and I are going out in a while. We'll recon a dozen targets, and   
choose three or four for tonight's blitz."

"Be careful."

"I always am." He stood and stretched. "Why don't you see if the Doc needs a hand with   
the hardsuit?"

"Sure." She stood and walked away.

Nemesis watched his sister walk away. I should have never involved you in this mad-  
ness, Maria, he thought sadly. You should have a home, friends, and a normal life. I don't   
want you caught in the firestorm I'm igniting.


	4. Chapter 4

DelNotre's Restaurant  
February 10, 2036  
12:49pm

Nene and Alan were seated comfortably in a corner booth near the back of the restaurant.   
The decor reminded Nene of an Italian villa, with white stucco walls, arched doorways, and   
marble tiled floors. The table that sat between them was real wood, covered with a white table-  
cloth, with fine dishes and cutlery were set perfectly in place. There were only four or five   
tables occupied, and their conversations added a low hum to the sounds of music playing in the   
background. It all made Nene feel like she was a little girl eating out for the first time.

Alan's actions when he and Nene entered the restaurant were unusual as the decor. When   
the man standing next to the door saw them, he shouted something in Italian, and hugged Alan   
like a long lost relative. They had a short conversation in Italian, with both of them glancing   
at Nene for a second, leaving Nene completely in the dark for the entire conversation. Then,   
the man showed them the corner booth. When the pair seated themselves, he presented them each   
with a menu, then left them alone.

When the man strode away, Nene whispered "What was that about?"

"What?" asked Alan, without looking up from his menu.

"The greeting at the door, and the conversation."

"Oh. That was the owner. He's a second cousin of mine. He speaks English and Italian   
fluently, but Japanese is beyond his skills." He shrugged. "I eat here regularly, and he makes   
a big production out of it."

"What about the conversation dealt with me?"

Alan looked at her blankly. "How did you know we talked about you? I thought you didn't   
understand Italian?"

"I don't, but I know that look when I see it."

"He asked if you were my girlfriend, and I told him you were a coworker, nothing more."

"Where does he get the idea I'm your girlfriend?"

Alan chuckled. "I come from a big family, Nene. I have six brothers and four sisters.   
Right now, I'm the only one of the eleven not married, and the entire family is trying to remedy   
that situation as soon as possible. So, anytime they see me with a girl, their hopes go up."

"Sounds like a pain."

"It's not that big a deal. I know they want me to be happy, and we are a close-knit   
family. What about you?"

She looked down at her menu. "I'm an only child."

"Sorry to hear that. I can't imagine growing up alone."

"We'd better order," said Nene, looking to change the subject. "Or we'll be late back to   
work."

A waiter took their orders, and disappeared into the kitchen. After a short time, a   
steaming plate of pasta was sitting before each of them, along with a salad and freshly baked   
bread. They ate slowly, savoring the meal, and kept the discussion centered on computers and   
related subjects. Nene was surprised at the richness of the lunch, and she said, "Isn't this   
going to cost you a lot for this meal?"

Alan shook his head. "I'm paying for your lunch. Mine's free."

"Huh?"

Alan shrugged. "I'm family. My cousin would be insulted if I tried to pay for my meal."   
He smiled at her. "So, I make it a point to recommend this place to everyone I can. In fact   
I -" He stopped in mid-sentence and stared at the three men entering the restaurant. "Are you   
armed?" he asked quietly, his smile gone.

She nodded, suddenly worried. 

"With what?" he asked.

"A SIG Sayer ten millimeter my boyfriend gave me for Christmas."

He gave her a small smile. "I like your boyfriend's tastes in guns. However, I'm not   
sure of his wisdom."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Giving you a pistol. You can't hit the broadside of a barn from inside the barn."

"That's not true!" she hissed angrily. "And how did you know -"

"We can have a debate later about your marksmanship. We got bigger problems."

"What's wrong?"

"Time for the weekly payoff to the local Yakuza."

"This close to ADP headquarters?"

"Why not? The Yakuza is everywhere."

"Are we going to stop it?"

Alan shook his head. "We'd have a hard case to prove from the start. My cousin wouldn't   
talk, and the bagman wouldn't talk. But I still don't like this. I think the Sleeping Dragon   
Yakuza is nervous."

"How can you tell?"

"They usually send one fellow, a really nice guy, considering he's Yakuza, by the name   
of Yawata. My cousin hands him a bag with the week's payoff, and Yawata's out the door. No muss,   
no fuss."

"I take it that's not Yawata," said Nene, motioning to the smallest of the three men   
with her head.

"Not by a long shot." He watched the trio approach his cousin. "That's the Oyabun's son,   
and heir apparent. The other two are bodyguards. All three are bad news."

Nene watched the three out of the corner of her eye. They glared at the other customers,   
and they took the hint, paid quietly, and left. Another glare cleared the room of the staff   
with the exception of Alan's cousin. Soon, only the three Yakuza, Nene, Alan, and the cousin   
were left in the dining room. Sato started talking quietly to Alan's cousin, and the cousin was   
responding with much gesturing. Suddenly, Sato reached out and grabbed the cousin by the lapels,   
pulled him forward, and tossed him onto the floor. 

"Cover me," said Alan, sliding out of the booth, followed by Nene. While Alan directly   
headed for the trio, Nene drifted a couple of meters off to the right, and stopped. She pulled   
out her pistol, aware of its weight and hardness. Gripping it with both hands, she released the   
safety, and kept it pointing down at the floor.

"Sato!" shouted Alan, pulling out his own pistol. Like Nene, he kept it pointed at the   
floor. 

The two bodyguards moved to impose themselves between Alan and their boss, but Sato   
said, "I will speak with him."

Sato turned and glared at Alan, who had stopped a meter away. He was short and slim,   
with slicked back hair, and a pock marked face. "Stay out of this, Officer," he said with a   
nasal twang. "This concerns a business matter between the owner and my father."

"And that is my cousin you have on the floor, Sato. That makes it family business -- my   
business. I suggest that you let Vito get up and maybe we can discuss this."

"And why should I do that?"

"Because I might get excited, and you wouldn't like that."

Sato snorted. "A brave statement, considering the source. You're no ADP line officer."

"So I'm a desk officer." Alan slowly brought up his pistol until it pointed at Sato's   
forehead. "I asked you nicely once, Sato," he said calmly. "I'm not the best shot in the world,   
but I can't miss at this distance. And since this is a fifty-cal Desert Eagle, the bullet won't   
leave a lot intact when it goes through your head."

"And my guards would kill you."

"Not before my partner takes then out with her brand-new pistol." He motioned with a   
slight gesture of his head in Nene's direction. "She's on the ADP shooting team, and the best   
shot in her class three years running."

Sato looked undecided. Alan continued. "Your father has had a lousy day already with   
what happened at pier 234. I doubt losing his son will improve his day."

"What are you prattling on about? I don't know anything about what happened at some   
pier."

"Be sure to tell Hoshi that when you visit him in the hospital."

Sato's eyes narrowed. "For a desk officer, you seem to stay current on certain subjects."

"Bad habit," replied Alan with a shrug. "Like I told my partner earlier, I'm an informa-  
tional packrat."

Suddenly, Vito started speaking to Alan in Italian. Alan replied in Italian, his eyes   
never leaving Sato's. For several minutes, the two cousins conversed in rapid fire fashion.

Nene gripped her pistol tightly in her hands. What is Alan trying to do, get him and   
me killed? She didn't know if she could actually fire at anyone. Rampaging Boomers are   
one thing, there nothing wrong in destroying them before they can kill you. But can I shoot a   
human being in cold blood? 

She was broken out of her worrying by Alan's incredulous cry. "You can't be serious! A   
fifty percent rise in the protection fee? Is your father crazy?"

Sato looked worried now, as Alan's pistol had moved closer to his face. His bodyguards   
continued to glance from Alan to Nene, wondering who was the more dangerous one. "It is a   
temporary measure," Sato said with raised hands. "As there has been a sudden drain on the local   
community's resources."

"How much did your father lose in the attack last night?" asked Alan calmly. "Half a   
billion Yen? Three quarters of a billion?"

"A significant amount of resources were lost a short while ago, but we are taking   
measures to recoup our losses."

"Is your father preparing for a war?"

Sato took a deep breath. "I believe he is tightening security at several locations in   
response to some perceived threats."

"Perceived threats? You're in the wrong line of business, my boy. You should be a pol-  
itician. Your father lost over thirty men last night, and you call it a `perceived threat'."   
Alan sighed. "Tell you what, Sato. I'll tell my cousin to give you the usual amount he pays   
you, plus another twenty five percent to assist in recouping your losses. This time only,   
though. Next week, he pays the same amount he's been paying. Understood?"

Alan spoke to Vito in Italian again, and the man scrambled to his feet, and went over   
to the cash register. He opened it and counted out a fair number of bills. He withdrew a small   
bag from under the counter, dropped the pile of bills into the bag, and walked over to stand   
next to Alan.

"My Father's orders were clear on this point. I cannot leave without the full amount."

"You could leave on your back with a lot less brain matter, Sato," said Alan coldly. "I   
think your father would prefer three quarters of a pie and an intact son, then to get nothing   
and lose his son in the bargain."

"Your point has some merit," replied Sato, looking wilted.

"I was hoping you would see it my way." Alan spoke to his cousin, and Vito handed over   
the money to one of the bodyguards. The man glanced inside, and nodded to Sato.

"I think it's best you leave now, Sato," said Alan. "Someone is out to take your father's   
outfit down, and I rather that my cousin's place was not at ground zero should they come after   
you."

Sato glared at Alan, then turned and walked out of the restaurant, trailed by his body-  
guards. Nene felt relief wash over her, followed by a flash of anger. She put her pistol away   
and stalked over to Alan.

Alan murmured something to his cousin. Vito, after glancing at Nene, quietly slipped   
away. Alan slowly holstered his own pistol, and stood there with his hands behind his back.

"All right, Mister," said Nene angrily. "Do you want to explain why you pointed a pistol   
at a civilian, and threatened to shoot him? Not to mention participation in a felony by giving   
said civilian protection money? What happens if he decides to complain to the ADP internal   
affairs? You're a computer officer, not Leon!" Now on a roll, she continued to forcefully tell  
him everything he'd done wrong.

Alan listened in silence as she read him the riot act. "Is the sergeant finished?" he   
asked formally.

Nene glared at him. "I'm waiting for answers."

He nodded. "First, Sato won't complain to ADP - he would lose face with his father if he   
did. He will handle the insult to his honor himself."

"And when he kills you, will his honor be satisfied?" asked Nene, feeling part of the   
anger fade.

"It will be. Though it will be some time until he can act on it. With Nemesis in town,   
everything else is going to be put on the back burner." 

"We should have arrested them!"

Alan looked at her sadly. "If it was just me, I might have gone ahead and done it. But   
not with you and Vito here."

Nene looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"There's no way Sato junior could have been convicted - his father has too much power   
and influence in this city. Sure, we could have arrested him and the two thugs, assuming they   
allowed us to, but what then? Sato senior has lawyers that'll do everything to delay and derail   
any trial. While they legal beagles are throwing up roadblocks, Sato has some of his 'persua-  
ders' out convincing Vito, you and me to have a sudden case of forgetfulness. If we don't   
knuckle under, they would be a good chance all three of us would disappear - forever."

"And the rest?"

"As to pointing my handgun at Sato junior and friends, I knew Junior would back off, if   
I showed I was willing to kill him. Had it been his father or one of his senior lieutenants,   
I could not have risked using the same tactic -- none of those men are easily intimidated.   
Giving Junior the money was a way for him to save face with his father. It also shows the elder   
Satothat I understand his current problems, but I wouldn't allow it to act as an excuse to   
squeeze more money out of my cousin's business. It also prevented Sato from sending a couple   
of leg-breakers to squeeze Vito for more money."

"And what about telling Sato I was on the ADP shooting team, and being the best shot in   
my class three years running? I'm not that great a shot."

"I lied about you being on the ADP shooting team because I wanted the bodyguards to think   
you were a threat, and thus treat you with respect. As to 'the best shot in her class three   
years running' statement, exactly how many redheaded computer security officers does the ADP   
have? Since they have only one, namely you, you're in a class by yourself."

"I see." Nene thought for a minute. What am I supposed to do? she thought. Granted,   
he broke rules, but no one was hurt. But I can't let him get away with it. He is my   
subordinate, and I'm responsible for his actions. 

The two of them had worked together for the last two months without any problems. During   
that time, Alan hadn't done anything to challenge her authority. But she couldn't ignore this   
stunt. I won't let him think I'm a pushover!

"What is the worse job that the computer security office has to perform?"

"A physical check of the entire computer system wiring structure. Checking it for wear,   
or signs of intruders. It's long, tedious, but necessary."

"And how long would it take?"

"Around three months, working full time." 

"In that case, for the next six months, you will spend half the work day performing such   
a check, starting at the bottom, and working up. I want the entire wiring system carefully   
checked. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sergeant," Alan replied meekly. "Do you want me to start today?"

"Tomorrow morning is soon enough."

"Yes, sergeant. Anything else?"

She punched him hard on the right arm. He flinched, but didn't otherwise react. She   
glared up at him. "What are you trying to do to me, give me a heart attack? You could have   
gotten us killed, you idiot!"

He looked at her, and she could see he looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry boss," he said. "I   
guess I got carried away there, didn't I?"

Nene sighed, all the anger gone from her. "We're technical staff, not field officers.   
Leon and Daley are the ones who are suppose to go around with guns blazing." She looked at her   
watch. "We'd better get back to work."

Vito reappeared and handed Alan a couple of small bags and embraced him again before he   
and Nene left. As they walked back toward the ADP headquarters, Nene asked, "What's in the   
bags?"

He handed her one. "Cookies. One bag's for you, one for me."

Nene looked at him in suspicion. "You're not trying to bribe me, are you?"

He chuckled. "No, Boss. The thought never crossed my mind."

============================================================

Ri-san Bar  
District 3  
February 10, 2036  
1:52pm

The Ri-san Bar was a hole in the wall located in a rough section of the district. Well   
known among the local police officers as a place to avoid, it was a haven for those in the   
criminal world. Which is why Leon, Daley, and Anderson were now entering the bar. 

Leon looked around slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the bar. Daley   
stood beside him, and Anderson stood behind them, a look of distaste on her face. "Nice place,   
McNichol," she said quietly. "You come here often?"

"Only to talk to Skeeter," replied Leon in the same quiet voice. "Stay close, and don't   
let them know you're a cop."

"Why? They don't look like they care one way, or another."

"Let me tell you a story about this area of town that you might now be aware of, Detec-  
tive," said Daley, his tone light but low. "A quartet of Boomers went on a rampage through this   
section about two months ago. Boomers sent to take Skeeter out for good. When we responded, we   
found the smoking remains of three Boomers in the street outside this bar. From the number of  
spent shells we found in the street, we figure someone used more ammo in ten minutes then the   
ADP uses in a month."

Anderson shrugged. "So they don't like Boomers."

"They like cops even less."

"Quiet, children," said Leon. "Skeeter's here. Table near the back door." 

"See him," replied Daley.

"He's all right, but watch out for the other patrons. They're not so friendly."

Daley noted several individuals at the bar staring at them in open hostility. Several   
of the patrons were sitting along the long wooden bar off to their right, while others were   
scattered among several booths along the left wall. Several more occupied a couple of the tables   
in the center of the room.

The three of them moved quickly through the tables, and approached the two men sitting   
at the table Leon had indicated. One was a giant, muscles rippling under a tight shirt. His   
hair was nonexistent, and his skin was the color of old hickory. His face had the flattened   
appearance of someone who fought with their hands.

The other man was short, slim, with a neat appearance and manner. He looked up at the   
trio approaching the table, but said nothing. Leon took the only other chair at the table,   
leaving Daley and Anderson standing.

"Leon," said the neat man quietly. "Nice to see you again."

"Likewise," replied Leon casually. "How's business?"

The man shrugged. "Steady. You know how things are today."

"I do."

They continued to talk for several minutes on mundane matters, much to Anderson's   
irritation. Out of the corner of his eye, Daley saw the detective start to fidget as the   
conversation continued. Any moment now . . . 

Finally, Anderson leaned forward and snapped at the neatly dressed man. "Look, Skeeter.   
Unlike these two, I don't have time to waste with talks about the weather. We need some   
information, and we need it now."

"Excuse me," said Leon calmly. "You're making a mistake -"

"No, Inspector," she snarled in a low voice, making Leon's rank sound obscene. "I'm not   
about to stand here, while you play happy time with a gun runner!"

"But Dect -"

"Listen, McNichols." Her anger was channeling itself into her words. "This isn't your   
usual Boomer hunt, where you can wreck huge sections of the city just to satisfy some deep   
seeded need to demolish things. This is real police work here, so why not let the real detective   
work, hm?"

Leon looked at the smaller man. "What do you think, Ham?"

Ham shrugged. "Not bad. A bit of a firecracker though."

Anderson turned to stare at him. "Listen, Skeeter," She snapped. "I don't have all this   
time to -"

"Detective, you are laboring under a misapprehension. I'm not Skeeter."

"- Sit around and . . . " Her voice trailed off as the man's words made an impression.   
She looked at Leon. "Is he telling the truth?"

Leon kept his face calm. "Detective Anderson, may I introduce Ham Mayfair, MegaToyko's   
top criminal defense lawyer. Ham, this is Detective Anderson of the N-police."

Ham tipped his hat. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Anderson face went blank. "So where's Skeeter?"

"That is I," replied the giant.

Anderson turned to look at the giant. "You're Skeeter?"

Skeeter sighed, and looked at Leon. "Quick off the mark, isn't she?"

Anderson straightened, her face a mask of anger. "You did that deliberately, didn't you?"   
she hissed at Leon.

"I thought you were a detective," replied Leon easily. "Ham is Skeeter' lawyer, here to   
make sure we don't try to entrap him."

"They also serve a better then average steak," remarked the lawyer.

Skeeter sighed again. "I see the N-police are still behind the times."

Leon shrugged. "I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen."

"I know. What can I do for you, Inspector?"

"You heard about what happened on Pier 234 last night?"

The giant nodded. "Sato is not happy, to put it mildly. He has been moving men and   
firepower around, and most of his important operations are well on their way to becoming   
fortresses. Word on the street has it that MegaTokyo is graced with the presence of Nemesis."

"That's what we think." Leon pulled out a small clear plastic bag from his pocket and   
passed it over to Mayfair. The lawyer looked at it, then passed it over to Skeeter. The giant   
picked up the bag and stared at the three shell casings in it.

After several seconds, Skeeter said, "Fifteen millimeter, Teflon tipped, hydroshock   
specials. From a minigun, probably a GMMA Whirlwind-III." He handed the bag back to Leon. "Not   
very common ammo."

"I know." Leon pocketed the bag. "Who in MegaTokyo would have a supply of this ammo?"

Skeeter leaned back in his chair, the seat creaking under the strain. "It would have to be   
Chogomiga, Narsh, or Gamble. They're the only three who are big enough to bother handling this   
type of ammo. Of course, this assumes that Nemesis is buying locally. He could have his own   
supply, or he could be stealing it."

"Have to start somewhere, Skeeter. You know Sato not going to be open with us."

"A piece of advice, Inspector. Sato is preparing for war, and he is not going to be   
considerate of those bystanders who get in the way. And the other major gang leaders are also   
gearing up for a possible battle. So, either find Nemesis really quick, or expect a full scale   
war that makes the Boomer uprising of two years ago look like a tea party."

Leon nodded, and stood up. "Are you ready, just in case things go to hell?"

Skeeter nodded. "My people are taking care of business. Just try and take care of your   
end of things."

"Oh, we will. Stay loose, Skeeter." 

"That's what I'm good at. Take care, Leon."

Leon turned and strode away, trailed by Anderson and Daley. The other bar patrons, with   
unfriendly gazes, watched the trio leave. No one said anything until they walked out of the   
bar. They strode over to the marked police car and opened the doors.

"What next?" asked Daley, sliding into the front passenger seat. His breath was a cloud   
in the cold air.

"We've got a starting point," replied Leon. "We have three names - Heio Chogomiga, Gram   
Narsh, and Kelly Gamble."

"We've wasted time here," grumbled Anderson, who had to ride in the back. "We should be   
pressing Sato, not chitchatting with a mentally challenged hulk."

Daley chuckled, and Anderson turned to glare at him. "What's so funny, Inspector?" she   
asked harshly.

"Should I tell her?" Daley asked Leon, as Leon slid in behind the wheel.

Leon shrugged. "You should," he replied. He started the engine, and guided the car out   
onto the street. "She's not going to be happy until you do."

"All right." He turned in his seat to face Anderson. "Skeeter's many things, but a   
mentally challenged hulk isn't one of them. He's the most powerful non-Yakuza gang leader in   
MegaTokyo, and runs this district as his own private kingdom."

"So," replied Anderson. "He knows how to crack heads. So what?"

"Remember when I told you about the quartet of rampaging Boomers?"

"You found three shot to pieces outside the bar. Again, so?"

"So," said Leon, "Skeeter tore the fourth Boomer's head off with his bare hands. There   
aren't too many people alive that can claim they've done that."

"So, he's really good at cracking heads. I'm not impressed."

Daley smiled at her. "He's got three different Masters' degrees, including an MBA from   
Yale. He speaks at least seven different languages fluently, and has written several well-  
respected books on medieval Japan. He knows more about what's going on in MegaToyko then any-  
one else, with the exception of Quincy." 

"You're not serious."

Daley held up a hand. "Scouts' honor. You can check his file when we get back to the   
station."

"So why does someone with so much intelligence hang around down here?"

"He grew up around here," replied Leon. "In fact, he was a fairly powerful gang leader   
until he decided that education would be more of a benefit then a hindrance. When he came   
back about ten years ago, this place was a warzone. There were a dozen gangs fighting for   
turf, and more crime in this district then the rest of the city combined."

"So how did he stop it?"

Leon turned his head and smiled at her. "Skeeter reclaimed his spot as a gang leader   
and consolidated power. He keeps the gangs in line, the Yakuza out, and peace in the district."   
He returned his attention to the road. "In return, he's working hard to actually improve   
conditions down here. The new wing the Orphans' Home got several years back? Skeeter put the   
money up for that. There are three medical clinics down here that stay open only because Skeeter   
pays the bills. He has put at least two hundred kids through college, and most of them return   
here to help others. No one runs drugs into this area, not if they've grown fond of living.   
Skeeter may be a gang leader, but he's a better human being then most of the jackasses in   
government service."

"Which is why the local police give him a lot of slack," finished Daley. 

"I thought the police were supposed to put men like Skeeter away."

"If something happened to Skeeter," said Leon, glancing in the rear view mirror. "This   
district would go up in flames quicker then you could say `Boomer rampages'. No one wants that,   
especially the local police. So, they overlook a lot of the small stuff, and Skeeter lets them   
know if someone's poaching on his turf."

Anderson leaned back and frowned. "I beginning to wonder who's running this city."

"You just beginning to wonder at that?" said Daley. "Leon and I have been mulling over   
that for years now."

"Any answers?"

"Nope."


	5. Chapter 5

District 8  
February 10, 2036  
2:21pm

Few people noticed the van pull to a stop across the street from the Fu Shui Nightclub.   
The outside walls of the nightclub were painted in a series of garish blues, yellows, and reds   
that made the six-story building looked like it had a disease of some sort. A trio of large men   
in dark suits stood outside the front doors, watching everything around them.

The van that had stopped across the street was dark green in color, with tinted windows,   
and no side door. On the side of the van, GREEN DRAGON MESSENGER SERVICE was painted in neat   
white letters.

A short, broad-shouldered man with a graying crewcut emerged from the van. Dressed in a   
set of overalls the same color as the van, the man walked to the rear of the truck and opened   
the doors. He pulled out several packages, placed them in a handcart, and carried them into   
the office building the van was parked in front of. Ten minutes later, he emerged with another   
group of packages. He stored them in the back of the van, got in, and drove off.

Sarge didn't say anything until he had turned the corner and was out of sight of the   
nightclub. "How did it go, Sir?"

The curtains that separated the rear of the van from the driver's compartment opened   
slightly. The strong, even voice of Nemesis replied. "The scanning equipment picked up traces   
of several of the more popular illegal drugs. Looks like the fourth and fifth floors are   
definitely drug labs. Our information is right on the money."

"And the security setup?"

"Our information is right on that score also. The scanners found twenty three armed   
targets in the buildings, and twelve non targets. Sato is gearing up his defenses."

"We expected that. Do we include it in the planned strikes?"

Nemesis was silent for a minute. Then, he nodded. "If I come down from the roof, and go   
out the same way. Also, a few well-placed stink and smoke bombs to clear the nightclub, set   
to go off just before I hit the roof should clear the place quickly enough."

Sarge nodded. "I think you should go with a mix of flachette, smoke and flash-bang   
canisters for the grenade launcher. Lessen the chances of any bystanders getting hit with   
shrapnel."

"Agreed. I also want the first grenade in each magazine to be HE, in case I need to make   
an entrance on my own. Also, I think we should go with the flachette rounds for the rail gun,   
and the extended magazine. Mount the small flamethrower too."

"Got it. What about melee weapons?"

"Vibrosword in the left arm, alongside the grenade launcher. I shouldn't need anything   
else."

Sarge made a right turn onto a one way street. "Where to now, Sir?"

"The old Byjang toy factory over on Hakamma. It's one of Sato's main weapons storehouses."

Sarge smiled. "I wish I could see Sato's face when he finds out he's lost several more   
of his businesses."

Nemesis didn't return the smile. "I want him angry. Angry men don't think straight."

"Angry men also get careless about who's between them and their target."

"I know."

=============================================================

Silky Doll  
February 10, 2036  
4:42pm

Sylia was surprised to see Nene walk into the store. Things had been quiet for over a   
month, as if there was an unwritten agreement not to spoil the New Year. There were no Boomer   
rampages, or much in the way of jobs for the Knight Sabers. Fargo had one or two leads, but   
nothing definite yet.

There were several other customers in the store, so Nene had to work her way though the   
displays of lingerie at a sedate pace. After ten minutes in the store, the last of the customers   
walked out of the store, leaving the two of them alone.

"What is it, Nene?" Sylia asked when the redhead approached the sales counter.

Nene pulled out the computer disk with the data on Nemesis. "There's a war brewing in   
MegaToyko, and it could get really nasty."

Sylia nodded, and called a sales assistant out of the back to mind the shop. Ten minutes   
later, they were both in Sylia's apartment. Sylia sat on the couch and listened to Nene fill   
her in on the attack on the docks, the speculation on Nemesis, and what happened at the Italian   
restaurant. 

"The word is that the N-Police has already called in all their personnel and canceled   
all vacations and personal leave. They've also beefed up surveillance on several of the high   
profile businesses they know Sato owns," said Nene. "The chief is reluctant to do the same with   
the ADP, but he's getting pressure from the top. If Nemesis hits another of Sato's businesses,   
the chief will be forced to put the ADP onto full alert."

Sylia picked up the data disk. "And this is all the data on Nemesis?"

Nene nodded. "Alan already had most of it. All I had to do was an update."

"Why did Alan have a copy of this data?"

"You don't trust him?"

"These days, I trust very few people. Alan isn't one of them."

"I checked the disk before I left work. There's nothing in there but data. Alan claims   
that he's an `Informational packrat'. He has several disks on the Knight Sabers."

"Very well, I'll look over the data. If you get the chance, you might want to look over   
the disks Alan has on the Knight Sabers."

Nene nodded. "What about Nemesis?"

"I'll have Fargo see if he can dig up something on our man."

"Sylia, what happens if this does turn into a shooting war? What will the Knight Sabers   
do?"

Sylia stared out the window. "I don't know. We may just stay neutral."

"I don't know if we should," said Nene slowly. "Innocent people could get killed."

Sylia nodded. "I know."

==========================================================

Priss's trailer  
February 10, 2036  
6:29pm

Leon slowed his car to a halt several dozen meters from Priss's trailer. He got out of   
the car slowly, and walked toward the trailer. The air was getting colder, and the glance Leon   
gave the sky told him there was rain on the way.

Perfect, he thought sourly. The perfect way to wrap up a lousy day.

After the meeting with Skeeter, the three of them had ridden back to ADP headquarters.   
A check on the three names Skeeter gave them wasn't very helpful. Heio Chogomiga was in the   
hospital, recovering from a `disagreement' with a client. Gram Narsh had gone on vacation to   
the Caribbean, and wouldn't be back for another week. Kelly Gamble was in town, but had gone   
to ground in response to Nemesis's appearance. In short, none of the major Arms suppliers   
Skeeter named was accessible. Anderson has stormed off in anger, leaving Daley and Leon to   
write up the reports.

The door to the trailer opened when he was about five meters from the trailer. Priss   
leaned against the door frame, and looked at him with an expression of disgust. "Why, Inspector   
McNichol," she said, with a mocking tone of voice. "What brings you down to this part of town?   
ADP misplaced another Boomer?"

"I was hoping you'd have dinner with me."

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "What happened, Daley turned you down again?"

He sighed. "I've had a long and rotten day. I just needed to turn down by you to make it   
complete."

She gave him a thin smile. "We can't have that, can we? All right, you're on. But I pick   
the place, and you pay. Clear?"

"As long as it's not the most expensive place in town. Unlike some people, I don't have   
money to burn."

Priss nodded. "Agreed. Give me ten minutes, and then we'll go."

She reached for the door to close it, but Leon said, "At least tell me where we're going   
first!"

"Oh?" She smiled at him. "First, a dinner at Sirocco's, then a place over in district   
eight called the Fu-Shui Nightclub. See you in ten minutes."

Leon stood there for several seconds after Priss closed the trailer's door, wondering if   
maybe chasing down combat Boomers wasn't safer and cheaper.


	6. Chapter 6

Holton Junkyard Co.  
District 5  
February 10, 2036  
7:12pm

"Weapons check."

The electronic voice of Nemesis echoed slightly in the chamber. Marie, Smitty, and Sarge  
watched Professor Vicain make a final adjustment to a pod on the right arm of the hardsuit.  
Vicain stepped back and nodded to the armored vigilante. Smitty stepped over to a nearby console  
and tapped a few keys. The professor and Marie moved away from Nemesis and went to stand behind  
Smitty.

"Ready here, Sir," the armorer said.

"Begin weapon system check," replied Nemesis.

"Right arm Railgun."

The black Hardsuit's right arm came up, and pointed at an empty section of the underground  
chamber wall. The metal fingers on the right hand opened to reveal a muzzle. "Railgun at 100%  
power."

Smitty nodded. "Status confirmed. Left arm grenade launcher."

It took five minutes to run through the entire weapons' check. Once Smitty confirmed the  
last weapon reading, Nemesis switched the hardsuit's system to standby, and removed his helmet.  
"The extra ammo and weapons ready to go?"

Sarge nodded. "When do you want to start?"

Nemesis looked at a clock hanging on a nearby wall. "I want us to be on the road by nine  
PM."

"What order are you going to hit tonight's targets in?"

The vigilante unsealed his suit and climbed out. He strode over to a nearby table,  
followed by the others. A large scale map lay on the table. They clustered around the table.

"I want to start with the basement casino in the garment factory on Kiho," he said,  
pointing to the location on the map. He continued, pointing as he listed the targets. "Then the  
brothel on Ja-sia, the old Byjang toy factory over on Hakamma, and the last one, the drug lab  
over the Fu-Shui Nightclub. I think I can be in and out each location within ten minutes."

"That's cutting it close, my boy," replied Vicain. He was tall and almost impossible thin.  
He had a sharp nose and chin, watery blue eyes, and a high forehead. He looked more like a  
headmaster at a private school then he did a scientist.

"I know, Professor," replied Nemesis carefully. "Any longer, and Sato would have  
reinforcements on top of me."

"Why not use the heavy hardsuit for this assault, instead of the new hardsuit? You would  
have more firepower and armor."

Gaven shook his head. "But not the mobility. The heavy hardsuit is great in an open  
battlefield, but not in an enclosed area. And all the targets tonight are inside."

Marie looked worried. "Gaven," she asked her brother. "Do you think Sato would use  
Boomers?" 

"Not straight away."

"But you're worried that he will," said Sarge. 

Gaven sighed. "If he loses too much face, he will. If that happens, there could be a lot  
of people in the crossfire." 

"What about the ADP?" asked Smitty.

"My sources say the ADP has to rely on a group of mercenaries to bail them out of any  
tough Boomer situation."

"The Knight Sabers?" asked Vicain.

Nemesis looked at him, and nodded. "I've heard they're good."

"They've got good hardsuits," replied the Professor. "Whoever designed them is a genius."

"So are you, Professor," replied Marie confidently. "You designed the Nemesis hardsuit."

"Only because someone else had done all the groundwork years before."

"We can discuss this later," said Gavin. "I'm going to go take a nap. Sarge, wake me in  
an hour."

"Yes Sir."

============================================================ 

Abandoned Warehouse  
District 4  
February 10, 2036  
7:21pm

Nene carefully balanced the several containers of food in her left arm so she could bang  
on the thick metal door with her right. She struck the door twice, waited two seconds, then  
banged on it again. She looked up at the small security camera, and stuck her tongue out.

The door opened slowly. "Enter, and abandon all ye hope," rumbled a deep menacing voice  
that then dissolved into a menace filled laughter.

Nene ignored the voice and slipped inside. "Very funny guys," she said sarcastically.

The room was five meters by five, with bare concrete walls and floor. Several tables were  
set up along the walls, most of them filled with computers and assorted hardware. The light in  
the room was supplied by a single bulb hanging down from the ceiling.

There were two people in the room, but only one looked up at her. "It was Vicky's idea,"  
Rob Madson said, pointing to the other person. "She also wants to wire the rest of the building  
and spread stories that the place is haunted."

"No way in Hell," growled Nene. "We do that, and we'll have every ghost hunter in the  
city tripping over themselves to prove or debunk the stories. The last thing we need is a ghost  
hunter opening the door and finding us here."

Rob nodded. "That's what I told her."

The other person in the room spoke for the first time. "Could you keep it down, guys?  
This isn't any easier with you two yackking in the background."

Nene put down the food on a nearby table and went over to where Vicky Maoru sat, a VR  
headset covering most of her face. Her right hand was sheathed in a sophisticated-looking VR  
glove that she was making small precise gestures with. 

"What are you working on?"

"I'm trying to access GENOM's records on a factory in district 4," replied Vicky in a  
distracted tone. "We picked up clues from several other sites that several of the factory  
production lines are putting out the new BU 55x Boomers."

"Any luck so far?"

Vicky shook her head. "The files are triple encoded. I can break the codes, given time."

"You don't have the time," said Rob from his station a couple of meters away. "There are  
at least two hunter programs tracking you right now."

Nene tensed at the mention of hunter programs. There were complex programs designed to  
track and attack any intruders into a corporation's computer system. And GENOM's were among the  
best.

"I'm launching ghost programs right now."

After several seconds, Rob shook his head. "You managed to distract one," he said, his  
voice steady despite the tension. "But the other one is still tracking you, and he's got friends  
now, including another Netrunner." 

"I've almost got the code broken."

"I'm releasing a couple of diversion worms now. That might pull the hunter programs off,  
but I can't do anything about the Netrunner."

"Leave the Netrunner to me," said Vicky. "I've got a surprise or two up my sleeve."

Nene moved to look over Rob's shoulder. She watched as the worms pulled several of the  
hunter programs away from Vicky's presence, the program's AI deciding that the worms were more  
of a danger to the system. The Netrunner, however, continued to bear down on Vicky.

"Got it!" Vicky cried. "I've broken the code! Downloading copies now!"

"The other Netrunner has released at least two dozen lamprey viruses," called out Rob.  
"If they latch onto you -"

"I see them." Nene could hear the smile in Vicky's voice. "See you around, clown." With  
an air of contempt, she slowly closed her right hand into a fist, the snapped it open. Rob's  
screen suddenly flared as if an explosion had taken place in the system. Lights danced across  
Nene's eyes for several seconds before she could blink them away.

For several more seconds, there was silence in the room. Then, with a sigh, Vicky slumped  
back in her chair, and slowly pushed the VR helmet up onto her head. "Corporate blockheads,"  
she said slowly, grinding out each syllable with as much disrespect as she could muster. They're  
making them dumber every year."

"What the hell was that last stunt?" demanded Nene, rubbing her eyes.

"A flare program. It's a little something me and a couple of the others have been working  
on for the last two months or so." She looked up and smiled at Nene, making her looking younger  
then she actually was.

Nene sighed. Why did we have to use outside hackers for this? she thought. The same  
answer came back just as fast. Because we needed more crackers then we could get out the  
ADP's ranks.

She looked down at Vicky, one of the small group she and Alan had recruited for this  
scheme. She was short, waif-like, with big brown eyes, short brown hair, and an air of inno-  
cence about her. She'd lost most of her family in a Boomer rampage several years before, and  
the fires of vengeance had been burning hot since then. She had been supporting herself and  
her surviving brother by becoming a cracker-for-hire. She'd jumped at a chance to joined the  
team, and she was quickly turning into the team's best cracker.

On the other hand, Rob Madson was almost the opposite of Vicky. He was one of two other  
ADP officers recruited into the team, and usually worked as the monitoring technician. He was  
stocky, wore glasses, and was older then anyone else on the team. He also had an easygoing  
manner that was a counterpoint to Vicky's tense, hard-edged personality. Together, the two of  
them formed the best Cracker team in the unit.

Nene waved to the food. "Better grab a bite to eat now, then I think we should call it a  
night."

The other two nodded. Nene and Alan had insisted on several rules to keep things from  
spinning out of control. One was that any cracking attempt was a team effort, the cracker and  
a monitoring tech to keep watch. Another was that if there was a successful penetration of a  
data bank, the cracker team would pull the plug and not attempt another cracking for a minimum  
of twelve hours. 

So far, the rules had been followed with almost no complaining. The amount of data the  
unit had managed to obtain, while not overwhelming, was beginning to have a marked impact on  
the street. Two Boomer rampages in the last two weeks had been stopped cold, with no loss of  
life. And that was making the chief happy, something he hadn't been in a long while.

Of course, if he'd ever found out what we were doing, he'd go into shock. Nene  
walked over and started shutting down the systems while the others ate quietly. She pulled the  
data disk with the production figures for the Boomers out of the machine, and put it in her  
pocket. Not to mention what he'd do if he'd ever found out where the money was coming from  
.

The money was being funneled from nearly every department in the ADP, a hundred here,  
fifty there, and twenty from somewhere else. The budget wasn't big, but with some money from  
Sylia and one of Alan's cousins, they had sufficient funds for six months. After that, well... 

"Who's on deck for the next cracker attempt?" asked Rob, as he finished the boxed meal  
and tossed the empty box into the trash can.

"Fox and Muldar," replied Nene.

Rob grimaced. "Fox is all right - she's ADP, but Muldar. . . ." He trailed off. "He's  
strange, even for a cracker. I'm not sure he's in the same time zone with the rest of us."

Nene shrugged. "Alan says he's one of the best, even if he's a bit . . .eccentric."

"Eccentric? Try Twilight Zone."

Vicky sighed. "Sorry to interrupt your stimulating conversation. Can I have some money? I  
need to pick up some food before I go home."

"How much?" asked Nene. She'd been expecting the question since she'd walked in.

"Twenty thousand."

Nene nodded and pulled out a large wad of bills. "This will have to last you until next  
week," she said in a serious tone, counting off a number of bills.

Vicky nodded. In the short time she'd know Vicky, Nene knew the cracker didn't waste  
money. Others might spend money on games, new clothes, or a new toy, but not Vicky Maoru.  
What she didn't use for food and shelter for her and her brother, Vicky saved for the future  
with a single mindedness that was scary.

With some help from Linna, Nene was trying to persuade Vicky to invest some of her money  
in bonds and stocks. Vicky was stubborn, but she was beginning to come around to their point  
of view. With Linna's careful investing, both Maorus would have a brighter future then most of  
the city's residents.

As Nene handed Vicky the money, the cracker said, "I thought you might want to know that  
there's a new Cracker in the city."

"Oh?" replied Nene with some interest. "Any idea who it is?"

Vicky shook her head. "They run under the alias of `Fleet Hermes'. They've been asking a  
lot of questions about who's who, and what the security setup of several systems."

"Like who's?"

"ADP's for one. Several corps internal networks, and a couple of Yakuza's databases."

"Someone asking about a Yakuza gang's database?" asked Rob incredulously. "That's a good  
way to commit suicide, slow and painfully."

"Any idea whose database Fleet Hermes was asking about?" asked Nene, a gnawing sense of  
certainty entering her mind.

Vicky thought for a second, the said. "The Red Willow Yakuza for one, and the Sleeping  
Dragon Yakuza, for another."

Jackpot! Nene fought hard to keep her excitement from showing. "Could you do me a  
favor?"

"I can try."

"Put the word out on the net for me. Let me know the next time Fleet Hermes shows up in  
cyberspace."

"So you can arrest them? I don't think so."

Nene shook her head. "I promise. I won't try to arrest whoever Fleet Hermes is. I need to  
talk them, and as soon as possible."

Vicky's eyes narrowed. "Why the sudden interest in the new kid?"

"You know what happened on pier 234 early this morning?"

The light of comprehension dawned on Vicky's face. "You think Fleet Hermes is working for  
Nemesis?"

"Makes sense," said Rob slowly. "Nemesis had to get his information from somewhere."

Nene nodded. "And right now, Sato's gearing up for a war. That's the last thing this  
city needs right now. I have to try and convince Nemesis to back off, or a lot of innocent  
people are going to get hurt in the crossfire."

Vicky frowned, then said, "I trust you, Nene. I'll put the word out about Fleet Hermes."

"Thank you."

"Well, time to go, ladies," said Rob, reaching for his coat. "I'm beat, and I've got the  
early shift tomorrow."

Nene led them out of the room, closed the door behind them, locked it, and set the secu-  
rity system. She turned and led the others up a short flight of stairs. At the top, the trio  
threaded their way through piles of wreckage. A minute later, they reached the small sheltered  
area where their vehicles sat, safely out of the way of the bitter winter night.

"Where did you get the car from?" asked Rob, pointing to the small blue car sitting next  
to his.

"It's mine," 

Both Rob and Vicky turned quickly in the direction the voice had come from. Rob relaxed  
when he saw who was standing there. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Sorry, Rob," replied Alan from the shadows near the door. He stepped into the weak  
light. "Nene asked me to drive her over here tonight."

Rob looked amused. "Oh?" he asked, the disbelief in his tone making Nene wilt in embar-  
rassment. "What's the matter, your scooter got swiped?"

Nene punched him in the arm. "No, my scooter didn't get swiped," she said angrily. "But,  
I'm sure not going to be out on a night like this on a scooter, trying to deliver you two  
Dinner."

"All right, sorry I asked. Come on Vicky, I'll drop you off at home."

The girl held up the roll of money Nene had given her. "Shopping first, then home."

"Right."

Nene watched them get into Rob's car and drive off before she got into Alan's car. Alan  
slid into the driver's seat and started the car. "Anything?" he asked.

Nene held up the disk. "Some possible specs on the new BU-55x series."

"Great! Any problems with the retrieval?"

"Vicky had to lose a GENOM Netrunner with a flare program, but I think she got away  
clean."

"We'd better not take any chances. I'll call Su and have the equipment moved tonight."

Nene nodded. She didn't understand how, but Alan seemed to have contacts everywhere. Su  
handled the movement of the hacker team's computers from location to location. Nene had never  
met the man, but Alan assured her Su was reliable. This would be the fourth time in as many  
weeks the stuff would be moved, and Su had come through every time.

Alan put the car into gear and they drove off, but Nene's thoughts were on the new  
cracker in town.

===========================================================

Sirocco's  
February 10, 2036  
7:25pm

Leon silently watched Priss eat, his own food almost forgotten. The girl who was sitting  
across from didn't look like someone who sang retrothrash, and destroyed rouge Boomers on her  
off hours. She was dressed in a white blouse, gray vest, and dark pants, and looked more like  
a college student.

She looked up him. "Yes?" she asked with a smirk.

"Sorry?"

"I'm still waiting for your first attempt to hit on me."

He sighed, and put his fork down. Leaning back, he stretched slowly. "Not tonight, dear,"  
he said with a yawn. "I have a headache."

She arched an eyebrow in surprise. "That's my line."

"Ah," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I bet your headache doesn't use a  
minigun and manages to piss off the largest Yakuza outfit in MegaToyko. And I doubt your  
headache is trying to start a major war among the city's major criminal organizations in the  
last twelve hours."

Her expression turned to one of puzzlement. "How's that again?"

Leon glanced around the room, then leaned forward. "Did you hear what happened on pier  
234 early this morning?"

Priss shook her head. "My newspaper subscription ran out last week," she said with a  
hint of sarcasm.

Leon told her the events of the last twelve hours. Priss listened quietly, nodding every  
so often to show she was still following his story. After five minutes, she put her fork down,  
and looked at him with sympathy. "What do you have on this Nemesis?"

Leon shrugged. "He's been active in the United States of America for the last four years.  
Appears out of nowhere, hits his targets, and fades away. Each attack is against a known  
criminal organization, and is performed with military precision and perfection. His best-known  
tactic is the `Blitz,' in which he hits several targets in rapid succession. He makes sure no  
innocent bystanders get killed, and has even helped people injured in his attacks."

"Sounds like a real boy scout," mumbled Priss. 

"Doesn't he?" 

Priss took a sip from her drink before she remarked, "I bet the cops have a fit wherever  
he shows up."

"Officially, yes."

Priss looked at him carefully. "Unofficially?"

"Unofficially, there's a lot of silent support out there for him. Every single criminal  
outfit Nemesis has taken down so far has been untouchable by the local police. He's never fire  
at a police officer, not even a dirty one, and more then one officer owns the guy his life.  
Also, after he's pulled out of an area, the local police get a large folder of evidence that  
allows them to arrest the surviving members of the gang. I almost feel admiration for the  
guy."

"You? Feeling admiration for a vigilante?"

He shrugged. "Why not? We have our own group of vigilantes right here, and on more then  
the odd occasion, I'm damn thankful for their help." He grinned at her. "Even when the hotheaded  
one of the team continues to turn me down for a date."

"Maybe she has better taste then I do," replied Priss, returning Leon's grin.

"Could be, but that hardsuit would stand out in a crowd. And making a pass at her would  
be . . . difficult at the very least."

"True. Anything else on Nemesis?"

"Only I've been saddled with a tough N-police detective that's convinced I'm only in  
the ADP so I can blow things up with impunity." His smile faded. "We have almost no leads,  
and we're forced to wait until he conducts another one of his blitzes."

"Can't you cover the most likely targets?"

"If we knew all of Sato's businesses, we'd shut them down ourselves. None of the under-  
cover people has ever gotten close to Sato. Somehow, Nemesis has access to data we don't, and  
he uses it to stay one step ahead of us." 

"Sounds like you have a real problem."

"Tell me something I don't know. That's why I asked you out tonight - I need something  
else to think about beside a hardsuited vigilante and an upcoming gang war."

"Like me shooting you down when you ask me to come up to your apartment to look at your  
etchings?"

He smiled. "Something like that." 

She leaned in toward him. "And what would you say if I said yes?" she asked in a husky  
voice.

He leaned forward and whispered, "Nothing, because I'd be on the floor, the shock being  
too great for my heart to take."

He chuckled as the expression on her face went from smoldering to surprise in a heart-  
beat. It took her several more seconds to recover her composure. "Daley's too good for you,"  
she said sarcastically. 

"So he tells me every chance he gets." 

They spent the rest of the dinner talking about mundane things, and keeping the conver-  
sation light and nonthreatening. After the waiter left Leon the bill, the police officer picked  
it up and stared at it for several seconds. He frowned.

"What is it?" Priss asked him.

"Just deciding wether to give up eating for two weeks, or letting my rent go for this  
month."

"That expensive?"

He passed her the bill, and her eyes widened in surprise. "I suggest giving up eating -  
you could stand to lose the weight."

"Hey!" He snatched the bill back and reached for his wallet. 

Priss pulled out several large currency bills out of her pocket and dropped them on the  
table. "That should cover my half of the bill."

"I thought you said I was paying tonight," he said, looking hurt.

"And give you something to hold over me? Dream on, pal." She reached over and grabbed her  
leather jacket. "Come on. We've still got the Fu-Shui Nightclub to hit."


	7. Chapter 7

Sato's home  
District 4  
February 10, 2036  
7:38pm

The young man knocked softly on the door of Sato's office. He waited until he heard a   
command to enter, and he did so. He strode over to the front of the desk, and bowed. "The men   
you have requested have arrived, Sir."

Sato looked up slowly from his computer monitor and nodded. "Very well, Honjuji. I will be   
with them shortly. Have there been any other reports of Nemesis?"

"No sir. But it is a good bet he will strike tonight. And he will probably attack several   
sites in rapid succession, as it is his custom to do."

Sato nodded. "How are the Jager battlesuits organized to handle Nemesis?"

"The K-11s are grouped into four three-men units," replied Honjuji briskly. "They're   
positioned in the north, south, east and west sectors of the city." 

"Why not leave them in a central location until our enemy shows up, and attack him in   
strength?"

"This way, at least one of our battlesuit units can reach Nemesis's location within five   
minutes of being alerted. It will be the responsibility of the first unit on the scene to track   
and harass our enemy. As more of our units gather, we can then concentrate on the elimination   
of Nemesis."

"And our security of our businesses?"

"Every business has at least two extra men on guard. Our more important businesses have   
double the normal number of guards. All the men are armed with machine guns or shotguns, with   
antiboomer rounds. Also, every location has a grenade launcher with antiboomer rounds." 

Sato nodded. "Excellent. I am pleased with your work in this matter."

Honjuji couldn't quite keep the disapproval he felt out of his voice as he continued. "We   
could have increased the security at each location had we closed down several of our smaller   
operations, and used the manpower to beef up our larger, and more profitable, operations."

"No."

"Why not, sir? Right now, we are stretched thin guarding possible targets that Nemesis   
will not bother to attack."

Sato looked up at his senior field boss. "To close any of our locations would send the   
wrong signals to the others. We must show that this Nemesis is nothing more then a minor   
annoyance, an irritant that doesn't affect our businesses." 

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Honjuji's. "To do anything else would   
give the impression that the Sleeping Dragon is weak, and unable to hold on to everything it   
now controls. Under those conditions, even after we have killed this irritant, we would have   
the others circling us like vultures. And soon, we would have to fight to hold onto our right-  
ful territory. We would win, in the long run, but it will cost us time and lives."

Honjuji nodded. "I understand, sir. In that case, might I recommend that we use the gangs   
under our guidance to act as a roving security in several of the more isolated areas we control?   
Granted, it would not be the same as having our own men there, but it would be better then nothing."

"I agree. Tell the leaders I expect every single member of their gangs to be out on the   
street tonight, no exceptions."

"Yes sir. Anything else?"

Sato shook his head. "I will be at the meeting in five minutes. You may go."

==============================================================

OKA garments factory.  
District 7  
February 10, 2036  
9:37pm

The factory was actually a series of run down brick buildings in a quiet industrial sector   
south of the city's center. During the day, it employed three hundred people to produce a cheap   
line of clothes. At night, one of the largest illegal gambling houses in the district operated   
in the basement of the main building, generating a sizable amount of income for the Sleeping  
Dragon Yakuza.

In the shadow of one of the loading docks, fifty meters away from the Main building,   
there was someone watching the factory. The armored figure of Nemesis scanned the scene before   
him through the infrared viewer built into his helmet. There were maybe three dozen cars parked   
in the adjoining lot, mostly upscale models, which told him that the casino was open and running   
as usual.

Close to the parking lot, a set of stairs led down to a steel door. Behind that, a narrow   
hallway ran to another steel door, and the gambling establishment itself. According to the Intel   
Maria had gathered, the usual hardman force was about a dozen, evenly split between the inside   
and outside, armed with pistols. There was a small armory inside the casino, in case of trouble,   
but he figured that Sato would issue the orders, and the guards would be expecting trouble.

There were two men standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in dark somber suits.   
Neither man was older then thirty, but they had the hard look of experienced killers. One had   
a machine gun slung over one shoulder, while the other held a shotgun loosely in his hands.   
They were smoking and talking to each other quietly. They don't really expect trouble. Their   
mistake.

He opened the communication channel. "You in place, Sarge?"

//Ready and waiting, sir. No activity on the Yak's channels.//

"Just make sure they don't get a call for help off before I'm finished."

//Don't worry. All they'll get is snow.//

"I know. Nemesis out."

He continued to scan the area, looking for the other outside guards. There should be two   
teams of patrolling guards that regularly switched with the door guards, and if the Intel is   
good, one pair should appear about . . . 

Just then, two more hardmen came around a corner of the main building and walked over to   
the guards standing at the top of the basement stairs. They talked for a minute, and exchanged   
a laugh that carried in the night air. Then, the first pair shouldered their weapons and walked   
away, disappearing around a corner of the building. The new pair relaxed, one of them lighting   
a cigarette and taking a puff. That's four. Where are the other -

From behind him, the sound of a gun bolt being pulled back gave Nemesis just enough   
warning that he just found the last two guards - or more accurately, they had found him. DAMN!

He smoothly dropped into a crouch, and turned toward the sound, his railgun coming up to   
track and fire. A stream of lead screamed over his head, missing him by a dozen centimeters. He   
heard someone curse, and then he saw them in the infrared. 

There were three of them, standing at the corner of the loading dock, twenty meters away   
from him. One had an old assault rifle, an M-16 by the look of it, up and pointed at him. There   
was smoke still coming out of the barrel as the mobster tried to adjust to his target's new   
position. The other two gunmen were still recovering from their surprise, and were still   
bringing up their guns to fire.

Nemesis's railgun whispered as he fired several steel needles in reply. The alert gunman   
folded over his weapon as the spikes slammed into him, and he dropped to the ground. The other   
two, shocked at the sudden death of their fellow, hesitated.

Nemesis's left arm came up, and the grenade launcher coughed. The night sky lit up as   
the HE round impacted right between the two, sending both bodies flying. The grenade continued   
to light the area for a scant few seconds before it died out.

So much for the quiet approach. He opened the channel with Sarge as he turned and   
ran toward the stairs leading to the basement door. "Sarge, I've been made. Start jamming now!"   
No time to waste. The numbers are running.

"Jamming now."

As Nemesis ran toward his target, he saw the pair of guards who had just started their   
patrol race around the corner. One of them pointed at him, and both charged at the armored form,   
guns blazing. He felt several rounds of the fusillade ricochet off the armor, but not hard   
enough to affect his movement.

You had your chance. My turn. He didn't slow as he returned their fire. The grenade   
launcher on his left arm switched internal magazines and coughed again. The antipersonnel round   
covered the distance in an eye blink, and exploded waist-high just in front of the two mobsters.   
The explosion sent one hundred and twenty-eight steel balls out in a tight pattern at better   
then a hundred meters per second. Neither man had a chance. 

Nemesis activated his thrusters, and launched himself into the air. At the top of his arc,   
he cut his thrusters and performed a forward flip. Below him, the two surviving outside guards   
were standing shoulder to shoulder. One of the guards was screaming into a comm device, while   
the other was scanning the darkness around him, uncertain of what had happened to their fellows. 

The hardman looked up, and screamed in terror as he saw the darker shadow against the   
night sky. The other guard forgot his comm device, and Nemesis could see the horror mixed with   
amazement on the man's face as he looked up. Surprise. 

The vigilante landed less then a meter from the pair. The Vibrosword popped free, and   
Nemesis stabbed the hardman on his left. He was rewarded with a scream that quickly became a   
gurgle, then the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. 

He turned slowly, allowing part of the blood still on the blade to spatter the last guard.   
The man looked pale and the expression on his face was pure fear. He dropped the shotgun, and   
backed away, his arms up in a pleading gesture.

"You have one chance," said the vigilante, the voice made cold and impersonal by the   
loudspeaker. "Run and live, or stand and die. Your choice." 

The mobster turned and ran, fears lending him speed. Nemesis watched him for several   
seconds until the hardman disappeared into the night. Got to move fast now. 

A couple of strides took him to the top of the basement stairs. A trio of HE grenades   
turned the steel door and most of the surrounding frame into junk. Before the smoke and dust   
cleared, Nemesis launched himself down the stairs. Using his thrusters to direct his jump, he   
bounced off the wall opposite the doorway, and then through the space where the door used to  
be.

The cloud of smoke and dust had thinned out to the point where he could see the inner   
steel door, partially open, at the far end of the corridor. He also saw a pair of surprised   
hardmen between him and the inner door. They had been in the corridor when the door had been   
destroyed, and were now trying to recover from the concussion.

Nemesis didn't give them a chance. The railgun came up and both mobsters went down for   
good. Without pausing, the soldier jumped over the two bodies and slammed into the slowly   
closing steel door. The hardsuit's weight and strength forced open the door, sending the trio   
of guards who had been attempting to close the door flying.

He found himself in a large room, thirty meters by twenty meters. The room was richly   
furnished in plush reds, greens and blacks, a startling contrast to the area outside the   
building. A large roulette table occupied the center of the room, while other tables devoted   
to blackjack, craps, and other games of chance lined the walls. A light haze of smoke filled   
the room from the cigars and cigarettes of the customers.

There were maybe a hundred people in the room. Most were clearly customers, elegantly   
dressed in expensive suits and dresses, suitably shocked at Nemesis's sudden entrance. A few   
others were employees who shared their patron's expression. Neither group was an immediate   
threat.

But the several men in tuxedos, holding firearms, were. Nemesis fired his railgun again,   
his first burst of needles taking out two of the opposition.He shifted to his right to avoid   
several shots and nailed another hardman with a single needle through the chest.

At that point, the crowd, suddenly finding themselves in a firefight, panicked. Seeing   
the only exit in the place clear, they stampeded for it, placing themselves between the soldier   
and the surviving Yakuza guards. For once, Nemesis was glad that Sato insisted that his men   
follow the old Yakuza law of avoiding killing Katagi, or non-Yakuza. That was the only thing   
that saved the situation from becoming a bloodbath. The law didn't apply to him, of course.... 

With neither side able to get a clean shot at the other, both looked for a way to maneu-  
ver free of the panicked patrons. Using the crowd and the gambling tables on the right side of   
the room to shield him, Nemesis moved deeper into the room. Several shots punched into the wall   
behind him, leaving fist-sized holes in the cinder block walls. He heard shouts from one of the   
hardmen, the team leader probably, to get the grenade launcher.

Nemesis dropped behind a blackjack table, and upended it. Chips, glasses of liquor, and   
cards went flying as the table fell on its side. Several more crashes answered his as the   
surviving gangsters sought cover for themselves. Nemesis crouched down, and quickly accessed   
his position.

There can't be more then four Yakuza left. But they're between me and the door, and   
well covered. They're using antiboomer rounds too. Sato did beef up security and firepower,   
but not enough, at least not here. He checked his ammo level. Three more bursts with   
the railgun, and I have one HE, four antipersonnel, and five tear gas rounds left. Enough for   
the job.

He changed magazines on the grenade launcher and leapt up. The grenade launcher spat   
out three rounds of antipersonnel, followed by three rounds of tear gas at the crouching Yakuza   
members. He dropped behind his makeshift shelter just in time to avoid several bursts of slugs.   
In seconds, the room began to fill with tear gas and the sounds of coughing and shouts. He   
heard the leader shout at his men to stand firm, and fixed his position in the fog. Time to   
take out the head.

He leaned around the right edge of the table, and fired a burst from his railgun in the   
direction of the leader's voice. There was a cry of pain, followed by a scream of agony, then   
something heavy dropping onto a table. Someone thrashed for several seconds, then silence except   
for the sounds of coughing.

Nemesis turned on his loudspeaker, and said, "You have ten seconds to clear out of here.   
There's no chance of help arriving in time to save you. This place has already been eliminated   
from Sato's list of businesses. Maybe Sato will let you live, but if I see any of you in the   
next ten minutes, you will die. Am I clear?"

There was nothing for a second, then he heard the sounds of running footfalls heading   
for the steel door, mixed with coughing and screams of someone in pain being dragged along.   
He waited several more seconds before he stood and scanned the room carefully. Only dead   
bodies were left in the room. 

He nodded in satisfaction, and he contacted Sarge. "Objective secured. Give me two minutes   
to plant the phosphorus charges, then meet me at the rendezvous point."

//Right.//

Nemesis looked around the room, his mind working out the best positions to plant the half   
dozen phosphorus charges he carried in an armored compartment at his waist. This will hurt   
you Sato, but this is only just the beginning.

============================================================

Sylia's apartment  
February 10, 2036  
9:45pm

Sylia walked into the computer room, a cup of tea in one hand, the data disk Nene had   
given her in the other. She thought about the conversation she'd had with Nene earlier. And   
the thought gnawed at her. Could the Knight Sabers stay on the sidelines, should a gang war   
erupt in MegaTokyo?

She had to see the data Nene had collected on Nemesis, and decide for herself. If this   
Nemesis was a danger, could the Knight Sabers stop him? Or help him? There were too many   
unknowns to base any decisions on. She sat and slid the disk into the waiting drive. She   
accessed the data and began reading it.

The first known appearance of Nemesis was about four years ago, in MegaNew York. There,   
a particularly vicious drug gang that had ruled a large portion of the city was wiped out   
almost to a man. The police reports quoted the few survivors' stories about being attacked   
by someone wearing an advanced hardsuit. 

Two months later, a gun running operation out of Miami was shut down brutally by someone   
wearing a hardsuit. This time, police put a name to this unknown vigilante: Nemesis. This was   
the first case that Nemesis used the special signature that was his trademark -- A capital   
letter N in a circle inside a triangle, one point of the triangle always pointing in the   
direction of the destruction.

The next several years read like a travel log of raids across North America. A white   
slavery ring in San Angles, an organ rigging operation in Dallas, two drug running operations   
in Chicago, and a Northwest US group selling illegally modified combat Boomers were some of   
the more public of Nemesis's battles with organized crime. Each time, the unknown person came   
out on top, using a combination of technology and tactics that cracked the opposition with   
quick and brutal efficiency. All that was left for the local law enforcement to do was sweep   
up the pieces Nemesis left.

As Sylia read the files, she started to mentally piece together a possible background on   
Nemesis. From the way the attacks were staged, Nemesis had to have a military background, most   
likely in Special Forces. His avoidance of targets with a high number of bystanders told her   
that this wasn't a madman behind the helmet, but a carefully calculating personality who kept   
his war directed solely at the chosen enemy. He also had access to money and advanced tech-  
nology, which possibly meant there was someone helping him.

She leaned back in her chair, and sipped her tea. The hardsuit Nemesis was using was   
somewhat familiar, possibly a Stingray-designed suit. From the large assortment of weapons   
the hardsuit was reported to have, there had to be a modularity built into the design. She   
wondered if Greg Mallory had anything to do with Nemesis. After several minutes, she decided   
that the CEO of MALCORP had too much to handle with the Black Knights to add a high-tech   
Vigilante to his plate.

Still, she needed to know from him directly. She glanced up at the watch. There was a   
fourteen-hour time difference between MegaToyko and Philadelphia, but Greg should be in the   
office by now. Moving carefully, she dialed his office number from memory, and waited for the   
connection.

The line was picked up on the third ring, but the vidphone screen remained dark. /MALCORP.   
Mr. Malloy's office. Can I help you?/

"Is Mr. Malloy in?"

/Who's calling, please?/

"Miss Sylia Stingray, from MegaTokyo."

/Please hold./ 

There was silence for five seconds, then she heard Greg's voice. /Sylia?/ Several seconds   
later, he appeared on the small vidphone screen. His mismatched eyes lit up with pleasure.

"Hello, Greg."

/What do I owe to this pleasure?/ He looked amused. /Have you reconsidered my proposal?/

"I'm still thinking about it," she replied dryly. "But, that's not what I called to talk   
to you about."

/What then?/

"How secure is this line?"

/As secure as it can get. What's happening?/

"How familiar are you with a vigilante who calls himself Nemesis?"

/Ah. That explains the pleasure of this call. We heard that he made a big splash there   
in the last day or so. You're wondering if I'm sponsoring him, right?/

"A good guess."

/The short answer to your question is no. I have people keeping track of his movements,   
and I would be more then happy to have him as an asset. But it appears that our man is very   
independent./

"He's a mercenary?"

/I doubt it. I've never heard of him taking on anything but organized crime groups. He   
probably uses money he's taken from the gangs he's fighting to finance his war. If so, he's   
completely self sufficient./

"Any idea where his hardsuit came from?"

Greg shook his head. /No, but if it isn't an offshoot of the Knight Saber or Black Knight   
hardsuits, I'm Quincy's new water boy./

"Which means that the third copy of the hardsuit data has turned up."

/Looks like it has in some form./

"Thanks, Greg."

/Let me know if you reconsider my proposal./

"You'll be the first person to know."

/I should hope so. Good bye, Sylia./

"Good bye, Greg."

Sylia broke the connection and leaned back in her chair, her tea forgotten. She continued   
to read the data, but her mind was focused on some unpleasant thoughts about a possible clash   
between Nemesis and the Knight Sabers.


	8. Chapter 8

District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:01pm

"An ugly sucker, isn't it?" asked Leon. They were standing across the street, looking at   
the Fu-Shui nightclub's gaudy outside. 

Priss shrugged. "It's supposed to be the hot spot in the city these days. I've been   
wanting to check it out for a while, but -"

"You couldn't afford it?"

"No, stupid. Because they only let couples in without a hefty cover charge."

"So I'm supplying you the other half of the equation, so you can get in." He looked   
skyward. "A handsome, brave member of the AD police, reduced to being nothing more then a   
way to get into a nightclub free. What has the world come to?"

Priss elbowed him in the ribs. "Will you shut up?"

"Why should I? I -" He stopped talking and looked around carefully, his face taking on a   
calculating look. "Shit," he breathed.

"What?"

"This place is one of Shikichi Sato's places." 

Priss looked around carefully. "How can you tell?"

Leon motioned toward the front entrance of the night club. "Besides the four overdressed   
hoods at the door?" he asked quietly. "He's got this place covered like a blanket. There's at   
least three on the roof, and there's a carload of them parked half a block down on this side   
of the street. There are several more of Sato's men stationed in several doorways on both sides   
of the streets."

Priss looked at the places Leon indicated with his words. He was right, there was Yakuza   
everywhere. "Do you want to forget this?" she asked, taking hold of his arm. "We could hit Crazy   
Joe's. I haven't been there in a while. Or even the Hot Legs."

Leon gave her a smile and a shake of his head. "Oh, no you don't. You wanted to get in,   
and I have this sudden interest in seeing this place myself. Come on." With that, Leon led Priss   
across the street.

As they approached the door, two of the doormen move to block their way. Both were large,   
bulky men with hard faces and cold eyes. "Good evening," one of them said in a horse voice.

"Is there a problem?" asked Leon easily.

"We have to check for firearms," replied the horse voiced doorman. "Club rules." 

"Oh?" replied Leon. "Matter of fact, I am armed." He opened his jacket to show them his   
pistol sitting in a shoulder holster.

Both hoods opened their eyes wide at this sudden announcement. But before either could   
say anything, a new voice said, "Hijo, Kusa, let Inspector McNichol and his guest pass."

The two doormen turned away, and a smaller spry looking man with salt and pepper hair   
walked toward Priss and Leon. He gave them each a small bow. "Forgive my employee's manners,"   
he said smoothly. "I'm afraid there have been some problems recently at several of my employer's   
business, and we are a bit on edge."

"That's understandable, Satoru," replied Leon with a shrug. "The problem wouldn't happen   
to be called Nemesis, would it?"

Satoru's smiled slipped slightly. "I am not at liberty to say."

"I'd be lying if I said I was upset at what has happened lately to your employer."

"I realize that you have some . . . problems with my employer."

Leon shrugged. "The only problem I have with Shikichi Sato is the fact he's the Oyabun   
of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza, and the biggest crook in MegaTokyo, outside of Quincy."

"Please, Mr. Sato is a simple businessman. There have been criminal charges against him   
in the past, but they have been proven to be without merit."

"Only because several witnesses who would have testified against your boss suddenly   
disappeared."

It was Satoru's turn to shrug. "If they decided at the last minute that lying about my   
employer was the wrong thing to do, Mr. Sato cannot be held responsible." He stepped back and   
waved an arm. "Please, enjoy your visit to my employer's humble business."

With Priss's gentle tug, they passed the still smiling Yakuza leader and entered the   
club. A blast of music and noise assaulted their ears, making any conversation impossible.   
Using hand signals, they made their way through the packed crowds lining the narrow, dimly   
lit, entrance hall. The hall was as garish as the outside of the building, with strange and   
bizarre looking masks hung on the wall. Priss made a face, and Leon nodded his agreement. 

After about five meters, the hall opened into a massive, two-stories tall room. The noise   
was overwhelming now, and the only light was coming from several dozen flashing globes rotating   
slowly in the ceiling. There were several platforms suspended from the ceilings, packed with   
dancers wearing close to nothing swaying to some unknown beat. 

The place was packed with people, most writhing on the large dance floor in the center   
of the room. There was a long bar against the far wall, with people packed around it two and   
three deep. There were at least four bar tenders behind the bar serving drinks, but they could   
barely keep up with the demand. 

Against the wall to the right, a live band was playing a loud, screeching song that made   
Priss's tastes in music cringe in distaste. Leon didn't bother speaking, but motioned toward a   
glass enclosed, second floor lounge to the left that overlooked the dance floor. Priss nodded,   
and the pair threaded their way through the enthusiastic crowd.

As they came abreast of the short corridor leading to the bathroom, a short, broad-  
shouldered man with a graying crewcut rapidly emerged from the corridor and plowed right into   
both of them. The only thing that saved Priss from being knocked down was Leon's grip on her   
arm. The man mouthed "Excuse me," and headed for the front door.

"Watch where you're going!" shouted Leon at the retreating man. The sound level made it   
impossible to hear his shout from farther then two meters away, and Priss doubted the man heard   
Leon. Muttering to himself, Leon quickly checked for his wallet and gun, and relaxed as he   
determined that he still had both. 

The rest of the walk to the lounge was without incident. The staircase was wide enough   
for both of them to walk to together. Once they reached the lounge door, Leon beat Priss to it   
and opened for her. Giving him a nasty glare as she went by, she entered the lounge, trailed by   
Leon.

Inside the lounge, the sound level was reduced to more manageable levels, as the thick   
glass eliminated most of the club's noise. A smaller bar was up against the far wall, with   
tables and booths taking up most of the space in the lounge. An open booth overlooking the   
dance floor was spotted and quickly occupied, and a human waitress took their drink orders.   
After the drinks were delivered, they watched the dancers on the floor below them.

"What do you think of this place so far?" asked Leon.

"The band sucks," she replied, after taking a sip of her drink. "They sound like   
strangling cats."

"Critic."

"I know music, and that isn't music." She thought for a minute. "Who was that guy you   
talk to at the front door? He seemed to know you."

Leon looked grim. "That's Masahiro Satoru. One of Shikichi Sato's right hand men. He's an   
oily bastard who is almost as smart as he thinks he is. Don't let the good looks and smooth   
manners fool you - he's a cold-blooded snake."

Priss nodded. "I know the type. But what has you uptight? And don't say nothing, because   
you were perfectly all right until we came in here."

Leon placed his fingertips against his temples and looked at Priss. "Word is out on   
the street that there's a big drug lab somewhere in this part of town. New and exotic types   
of drugs are now popping up, and the N-Police Narcotic Unit has been trying to find the lab   
for the past three months."

"You think it's here."

Leon gave her a small smile. "Either that, or all this security is to keep armed music   
critics from storming the stage and finishing off the bad reviews with gunfire."

"You humor hasn't gotten any better." But Priss gave him a small smile anyway. "But you're   
not going to investigate to find this lab tonight, are you?"

Leon shook his head. "I'll pass along my thoughts to a friend I have over in the N-police,   
and they can handle it. Besides, it's going to take more then a possible drug lab to keep me   
from your glowing presence tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"Scouts' honor."

============================================================

District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:11pm

From the rooftop of a twelve-story office building, Nemesis watched the building below   
and across the street from his position. He crouched in the darkness, his hardsuit blending   
into the shadows. He was only thirty meters away from his last target of the night, and his   
most important one. 

After the destruction of the basement casino, the other two strikes had gone like clock-  
work. The brothel on Ja-sia had only a quartet of guards who had taken one look at the hard-  
suit, and decided that they weren't going to commit suicide. They'd followed the Madam, her   
girls, and the customers out the front door as fast as they could go. A scattering of incendiary   
charges had quickly turned the brothel into a raging firestorm. 

Nemesis glanced in the direction of the Byjang toy factory. There were police cars,   
lights blazing in the darkness, all around the factory. That had been more a more difficult   
target for several reasons. The guards there had decided to fight, and with all the potential   
explosive power of several tons of ammo, he had been forced to be more careful. A well time   
phone call had brought the N-police roaring onto the scene in time to discover a dozen dead   
members of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza, along with a large cache of military grade weapons. 

Enough of the past. The present needs my attention now. There were four guards   
patrolling the roof of the building that had the drug lab. They were grouped into pairs,   
patrolling the flat roof, each armed with a heavy barreled rifle. Every so often, one of the   
pairs would speak into a small communicator. Sato's not taking any chances. He's expecting   
trouble. I think I should let him know he was right.

The roof itself was mostly flat, but far from being an easy place to land. A series of   
large solar panels occupied the rooftop's center, glinting dimly in the city's lights. Most of   
the rest of the roof had air conditions, heat exchangers, pipes, and other equipment designed   
for use by the building. In the far corner of the roof, a small structure protected the stairs   
leading to the roof from the whims of the city's weather. I'll have to land in that stretch   
behind the Panels - it the largest cleared area on the roof.

Seeing nothing new, he refocused his view on several of the nearest rooftops, and noted   
the other guards. Good. They looked cold and tired. The last thing they would expect is to   
see me. That should give me an advantage .

"I'm in place," said Sarge over the radio. "The smoke and stink bombs should go off in   
two minutes."

"Understood," replied Nemesis. "Any problems?"

"A possible one. I ran into one of the ADP inspectors - McNichol - as I was coming out   
of the bathroom."

"Did he look he was there for business or pleasure?"

"Pleasure, I guess. He looked like he was on a date, good-looking brunette."

"I'll keep an eye out for him. Any last minute changes?" 

"None that I could see. I thought I saw Satoru when I came out, but I only caught a   
glimpse of him."

"Understood. Start jamming when I give the signal."

"Roger that. Standing by." 

The next minute and a half crept by slowly. Nemesis spent most of that time watching   
the area surrounding the building, looking for any hidden traps. He saw none, and he tensed   
for the opening move in this raid.

A muffled thud was audible came from the building, followed by two more in rapid succes-  
sion. "Bombs have been detonated," said Sarge.

"Start jamming."

"Jamming now."

Nemesis took two running steps and launched himself into space. As he cleared the edge   
of the building, his thrusters launched him into the air. He reached the top of his arc before   
he cut the thrusters, and allowed gravity and momentum to carry him the rest of the way.

He saw the guards turn and stare up at him, the shock in their faces clear even at this   
distance. It took several seconds for the idea to register that they were under attack, but   
by then it was too late. Several pointed their rifles at him, but their first shots were wild.

Nemesis fired the railgun twice, hitting one of the hardmen in the chest and arms with   
several spikes. As the hardman went down in a bloody heap, his partner dropped his rifle and   
started to run. Nemesis didn't bother firing at the running man, instead devoting all his   
attention to the upcoming landing.

At the last second, he activated his thrusters, slowing just enough to prevent him from   
slamming into the solar panels. Clearing the panels by only centimeters, he landed in the dark-  
ness behind them, throwing himself into a forward roll as he landed to absorb his momentum. He   
came out of the roll ready to fire at the first target he saw.

There were shouts and running feet, but no one challenged him immediately. He leapt for   
the door leading downstairs, his leap carrying him most of the distance. An air-conditioning   
unit he landed on buckled under his momentum. Another jump put him with an arm's length of the   
door - and into the gun sights of the other pair of roof guards.

Only the combat instincts of a veteran warrior save Nemesis from being killed or severely   
wounded right then. He saw the two thugs raise their rifles to fire at him out of the corner   
of his eye, and he threw himself back and away from the door. He heard the guns fire, the crack   
of the projectile as it broke the sound barrier just above his head, and the tearing sound as   
the slugs slammed into the steel door with incredible force.

Railguns, Nemesis thought, as he came out a forward roll and fired his own railgun   
at the two guards. Sato armed his people here with railguns. That's not good. If both of   
those rounds had hit me in the same place, I could be dead.

He turned and fired all three HE grenades he'd been carrying at the sagging steel door,   
finishing the job the guard's railguns had started. The heavy door flew off into the night,   
and most of the wooden structure that had been attached to it ceased to exist. Without waiting   
for the results, Nemesis turned and fired a pair of smoke grenades in the direction of the   
surviving roof guards.

As soon as the dense smoke was sufficient to shield his movement from Sato's men, Nemesis   
headed for the open doorway at a full run. Not bothering aiming, he fired twice into the black   
smoke with his railgun to keep the guards back.

He jumped down the stairs, hitting the small landing at the base of the stairs with   
enough force to crack several of the wooden boards. To his left, a shorter flight of stairs   
led down to the sixth floor proper.

A trio of gang members charging up that flight of stairs faltered at the sudden appear-  
ance of the vigilante. Two aimed their assault rifles at the black hardsuit, while the third   
turned and dove down the stairs. 

No time for finesse. The Vibrosword shot free from its housing in the left arm,   
and Nemesis leapt forward, slamming into the startled pair of hardmen. The gangster on the   
left scream as the Vibrosword buried itself in his chest. His partner wasn't able to cry out;   
An armored forearm had broken his jaw and nose at the same time. Both rifles went flying as   
the vigilante's weight sent the three of them crashing down the stairs.

Because of his charge, Nemesis landed on top of the two gangsters. With the Vibrosword   
still buried in the one Yakuza's chest, the two took the brunt of his fall. He heard several   
of the luckless guards' bones breaking under the weight and momentum of the sudden assault.   
Two more down for the count. 

As soon as he landed, he looked up and around him for the next threat. The entire floor   
was one large room, longer then it was wide, with only the outside walls and twin rows of meter   
wide brick columns remaining. Large windows ran the length of the two longer walls, allowing   
some light to enter the room. A flight of stairs at the far end of the room lead downstairs.  
That's where I have to go.

There were also several lamps scattered around the room, their light showing the over-  
turned cots, tables, and chairs of the Yakuza members who had been stationed on this floor.   
It also showed the dozen Yakuza members scrambling for their weapons and cover.

Damn! Sato must have beefed up his forces more then we thought he would! I can't get   
bogged down in a firefight here, so I'll have to blast my way through. The Vibrosword   
snapped back into it's housing, leaving a trace of blood on the hardsuit's forearm. Nemesis   
looked at the two he'd laded on. Satisfied that neither would be a threat anytime soon, he   
rolled forward to take cover behind a brick pillar. 

As he did so, Nemesis felt the floor and pillar shudder under the impact of several   
streams of bullets. He leaned around the pillar and fired off a flachette grenade, quickly   
followed by a flash bang grenade. He pulled back behind the pillar just as the grenades   
exploded. The flachette grenade sent sixty, needle-like projectiles tearing into the unarmored   
hardmen. Those that managed to avoid the first grenade were simultaneously blinded and deafened   
by the bright light and loud bang of the second.

As soon as the second grenade exploded, Nemesis charged out from behind the pillar. With-  
out slowing, he stormed through the crowd, striking out at anyone unlucky enough to get in his   
way. He fired his railgun only once, that at a half-blinded hardman who tried to bring his   
machine gun up to fire. The Yakuza went down hard, his chest a mass of red.

Nemesis reached the stairway, and leapt down the stairs. As he landed at the foot of   
the stairs, he heard shouts, screams, and several shots ring out around him. He fired at a   
charging Yakuza, the railgun flachette punching through the man's face and upper chest easily.

The drug lab was just like upstairs, only the windows on this floor had been painted   
over to prevent light from spilling out. Four large fans attached to crossbeams above spun   
slowly to generate some airflow. The ceiling also had a heavy duty Halogen system installed,   
ready to eliminate the threat of fire. 

Several dozen tables were neatly arranged in different areas of the room, each area a   
step in the drug making progress. Several tables had chemical equipment sitting on them, while   
others had bags of colored powder neatly stacked on them, ready to be shipped out. He noted   
his chemical sensors listed several of the more expensive and popular drugs on the black market.  
Street value of all this? Upwards of three hundred million, I guess. Should make a nice bonfire   
before I bring the building down on it.

Half of the people in the room wore white lab coats, the other half somber suits. The lab   
people took one look at the hardsuited vigilante, and fled for the stairway at the far end of   
the room, and temporary safety. The suits produced weapons and opened fire.

Nemesis ducked to the left, the grenade launcher spitting out three smoke grenades. As   
the black smoke spread throughout the room, he moved quickly to a series of pipes running up   
the wall to the left of the staircase. He quickly traced the one he wanted, and the vibrosword   
popped free of its housing. With a quick slash, he cut the pipe in two, releasing a small cloud  
of Halogen gas. As the pipe parted, he gripped the lower half of the pipe and bent it away from   
the wall. He crushed the pipe until it was flat, then folded the flattened part of the pipe   
double. That should take care of the fire suppression for this floor.

He heard the shouts of men, followed by several sets of heavy tread on the stairs. They've   
gotten their act together quicker then I thought. The smoke filled most of the room now,   
and Nemesis could hear the shouts and coughing of the hardmen, accented by the occasional shot.   
Time to even the odds a bit.

He tapped a button on his forearm, and the room took on an eerie blue glow. There was   
no problem spotting the two nearest Yakuza in the smoke, as they were visible against the blue   
background as two yellow-and-red man-shaped outlines. He fired his railgun twice, and was moving   
in their direction even as the bodies fell. 

The shouts and coughing became louder, any cohesion lost in the thick rolling smoke.   
Deciding that he needed a distraction, Nemesis grabbed a table and threw it at a small group   
of gangsters several meters away. The makeshift missile smashed into the unsuspecting men,   
sending them crashing into several other tables. 

As the others closed in on the screaming men, Nemesis reached into the armored compart-  
ment at his belt and slapped an incendiary charge high on a pillar. He continued to move   
through the room, toward the staircase leading down, pausing to add two more charges to other   
pillars he passed. 

He reached the stairs leading down before someone shouted, "There He is! He's by the   
stairs -" 

Nemesis fired off a round at the shouting gangster that silenced him permanently, then   
followed it up with a flachette grenade into the largest group of forms standing together.   
Before the grenade exploded, Nemesis was already halfway down the flight of stairs to the   
fourth floor.

He hit the floor hard and did a forward roll to his right, clear of the staircase. There   
were surprised shouts and a flurry of slugs striking all around him. As he came up on one knee,   
he pressed a small red button on the hardsuit's right forearm control panel.

The charges he'd set on the floor above detonated, sending shock waves throughout the   
building. A sheet of flame rolled down the stairs and out into the room, catching several   
Yakuza members who were standing too close to the stairway and turning them into human torches.   
Nemesis felt the fireball pass over him, too weak to do serious damage to the hardsuit, but   
still strong enough to kill unprotected men.

He heard shouts, and the sounds of men running away. There was the sound of a large   
number of people racing down the stairs, then nothing. They must have pulled back, and   
are setting up an ambush for me below.

He shot to his feet and started moving toward the far end of the room. The tables on   
this floor were mostly stacked with small neat bundles of money, a King's ransom in human   
misery and suffering. You won't be getting any of this, Sato.

Several charred bodies laid close by, while a couple of other writhed in pain. Nemesis   
gave the badly burned, but still alive, victims a mercy round from his railgun, and moved on.

"What's your status, Sir?" asked Sarge.

"I'm on the fourth floor now," Nemesis replied, slapping another explosive charge against   
a pillar. "Resistance is heavier then expected."

"It's about to get worse. Someone got word out. There are three response units heading   
your way, two of them Yakuza. The NP has sent a unit to investigate, but the two Yaks teams   
will beat any real ADP response by at least ten minutes. ETA for the first Yak group is six   
minutes."

"Any more good news?"

"The Yaks have armored suits on the way. ETA for them is eight minutes."

"Fallback to Point YANKEE. I'll meet up with you there."

"But -"

"Do it."

"Understood, Sir. Good luck."

"Thanks, I'll need it."

Two gangsters who'd been crouched behind a table stacked with bundles of Yen decided this   
was the time to make their move. The both reared up and opened fire on Nemesis at point blank   
range. Sparks flew as the bullets bounced off the armored suit. 

But while the armor protected Nemesis from the actual bullets, it did nothing to cushion   
and protect against the shock of the impact. Nemesis staggered back and crashed into a pillar.   
His chest and abdomen were on fire, and the sudden impact of slamming into the pillar dazed   
him. He slumped to the ground, his vision blurry and unfocused. Not now, Damn it!

Just then, the magazines on both assault rifles ran dry. In desperation, both men strug-  
gled to reload. Neither had experience in changing magazines in combat conditions, and the   
process was far from easy. 

Meanwhile Nemesis struggled against the growing darkness. Part of him wanted to give in   
to the sweet release of unconsciousness. But another part of him struggled to push him back   
onto his feet. Slowly, his torso throbbing with every breath, he climbed onto his feet.

Through his blurred vision, Nemesis saw the two hardmen slam fresh magazines into their   
rifles. Faster then he thought possible, Nemesis lifted his left arm and fired the grenade   
launcher. The flachette grenade slammed into the bundles of money and detonated, spreading   
both bills and the two mobsters across a large part of the room.

He took a deep breath slowly, and winced as he felt a sharp pain in his side. At least   
one broken rib, maybe more. Not good. He tapped the suit's autodoctor, which quickly con-  
firmed his thoughts. He ordered the autodoctor to administer a shot of a local painkiller and   
a stimulant. I'll pay for it later - if there is a later . . . 

After he finished setting the last of his charges, he disabled the fire suppression   
system for this floor. Several dozen bundles of the larger denomination bills went into the   
pouch at his waist. Once that was done, he used the flamethrower to start several fires among   
the other piles of money, and tossed in as many of the bundles as he could. I'm glad this   
suit is airtight - the last thing I need is to get high on all the drugs floating around this   
place! 

Twice, the hardmen on the floor below tried to charge up the stairs, only to run into   
railgun needles and a flash bang grenade that forced a hasty retreat. It wouldn't take long   
for them to try again, from the shouting he was hearing from below. And he was running low   
on ammo for the railgun and grenade launcher.

I've got four minutes to get the hell out of here before the Jagers arrive. The   
fire in Nemesis torso was dying down, but there was still the sharp pain of the cracked rib.   
His head seemed clearer and more focused. Now how do I get out of here? He looked at   
the windows and a plan formed in his mind . . . 

=========================================================

Satoru looked at the men before him. It was uncomfortable in the narrow hallway, but no   
one was ready to complain. Several held the rifles tightly, a look of uncertainty and fear on   
their faces. They were the only ones left on this floor. The workers who'd been in the drug   
lab had already dashed past them, and were racing down the stairs to the exits. 

Unlike the floors above, the third floor was divided into a series of offices. The Yakuza   
gangsters were clustered around the staircase leading up to the fourth floor. Wisps of smoke   
were drifting down the stairs from above, and the sounds of flames cracking were audible. 

"Idiots!" Satoru screamed. His usually immaculate dress was in disarray. He waved the   
small automatic he was carrying wildly. "You left a fortune upstairs for that animal to destroy!   
All of you are a disgrace to the Sleeping Dragon! You are worse then useless!"

"But sir -" one of the men began to say.

Satoru tuned and shot the man in the chest, twice. The man looked surprised as the red   
stain on his white shirt grew larger. He then collapsed, making several of his companions jump   
back in disgust. 

"Anyone else wants to make an excuse?" Satoru snarled. No one answered. "Good. Now, how   
many men do we have here?"

"Eight," replied Tetsu, one of the senior hoods. "Another eight or so below clearing out   
the club. There's fifteen more on the sixth floor, but they can't get past the fire in the fifth   
floor. Nemesis must have disabled the fire suppression system on the fifth."

"That means he can't escape to the roof," said another.

Satoru glared at him. "Which means he will try either those stairs," he said pointing   
to the flight leading up, "or the windows."

"The guards we got stationed on the other roofs are watching the windows right now,"   
said Tetsu. "We managed to get a message out to one of the roving armored suit units, and they   
should be here in three minutes."

"Too long," snarled Satoru. "I want him dead before those suits show up!" He glared at   
Tetsu. "What do we have in the way of heavy firepower?"

"We've got an antiboomer Gerlitch Rifle in the armory," replied Tetsu. "Along with half   
a dozen clips for it. But it's heavier then hell, and a bitch to carry."

"I don't care. I want it up here, and now!" He thought for a second. "There's a secondary   
water sprinkler system that was never removed when we took over the building."

Tetsu nodded. "Mr. Sato ordered the system turned off after some idiot set it off and   
ruined three hundred million yen of drugs. The main is not far from the armory."

"Have someone turn on the main!" 

Tetsu nodded and snapped off an order to two of his men. They scrambled down the hallway   
toward the stairs. Satoru looked at the others, then looked at Tetsu. "Contact the men on the   
sixth floor," he snarled. "I want then to get ready to come down the stairs once the fires dies   
down."

"What do we do until the sprinklers come on?"

"We wait." Satoru's smile was cold. "After all, he's not going anywhere."


	9. Chapter 9

Fu-Shui Nightclub  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:15pm

The explosions coming from the club's restrooms had been clearly heard in the lounge,   
despite the thick glass. Both Leon and Priss looked in the direction the explosions came from,   
and saw thick white smoke billowing from the short corridor leading to the bathrooms.

"Trouble?" asked Priss.

Leon's face clouded. "I don't know."

They watched the people near the expanding smoke cloud cover their mouths and noses,   
their faces becoming pale. A large number of people started for the exits, directed by men   
wearing well tailor suits. Priss saw a couple of them heading toward the lounge.

Leon saw them too. "Time to play some hide and seek," he said, grabbing her by the arm.   
They stood up. "Behind the bar," he directed, gentle steering her in that direction.

The Bartender had already disappeared, and no one noticed them slipping behind the bar   
and crouched down. Priss looked at Leon. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Hiding from Satoru's men." He pulled out his Ruger Redhawk. "You armed?"

Priss pulled a large pistol from the small of her back. "Now what?" she whispered. "Go   
out in a blaze of glory?"

Leon shook his head, and held a finger to his lips. The noise outside the lounge grew   
louder, as the glass door was opened, then the noise muted as the door closed. There was an   
unpleasant aroma in the air that hadn't been there before the door had been opened. Several   
voices babbled at the unseen hardman.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said a polite male voice. "Someone has set off an explosive of   
some type in the men's restrooms. There is no immediate danger, but we ask that you clear the   
premises as quickly and orderly as possible. The Fire Department and Police are already on   
their way. If you will follow us, please."

There were the sounds of chairs being pushed back, mixed with the rustling of clothing,   
glasses, and muted voices. The thud of an emergency door opening at the far end of the lounge   
was followed by the sounds of people leaving, then silence.

Priss attempted to stand up, but Leon grabbed her shoulder, and shook his head. Priss   
glared at him, but the voice just above her head froze her. 

"Is that all of them?" the polite male voice asked. He was standing on the other side of   
the bar.

"Yea," said another, rougher voice from a couple of meters away. "Now what?"

"Don't know," The first guy replied. "Where's Satoru?"

"Gone to supervise the eggheads upstairs. The last thing we need the cops to find is the   
lab."

"Makes sense. What are we supposed to do?"

"Tetsu didn't say. He just told me to make sure the lounge was cleared, and to wait."

"What about a drink while we're waiting?"

Priss gripped her pistol tighter, and looked at Leon. He was looking up at the bar   
counter. Any second now.... 

"Are you kidding?" replied the second voice. "If Tetsu caught you drinking on duty, he'd   
skin you alive."

The first man snorted. "As if Tetsu scares me. That -"

A not so distant rolling explosion interrupted the hood's conversation. There was silence   
in the lounge for several seconds. Priss and Leon looked at each other, each wondering the same   
thing; What was going on?

"That came from upstairs," the second man said quietly.

"What do you think it was?" asked the first man, his bravado gone.

"I don't know, but I don't like it." There was the sound of steel against leather, the   
sound of a pistol being drawn. "You'd better contact Tetsu and ask for new orders."

"Right." There was silence for several seconds, then they heard the first man's voice   
again. "Lashjui here. The lounge is clear. Orders?" There was silence for several seconds,   
then Lashjui replied. "Right. Me and Itemji are on our way."

"Well?" asked Itemji sharply.

"Tetsu wants us to finish herding the customers out, then round up the others and secure   
the entrances down here. He thinks we've got an intruder on the upper levels."

"Damn. Any idea who?"

Two smaller explosions from several floors above answered his question. "You don't think,"   
said Itemji weakly.

"If it is, we've got a shitload of trouble. Open the armory and pass out the assault   
rifles."

"Right." The two mens' soft footfalls, followed by the opening of the lounge door signaled   
the departure of the two Yakuza members. Leon risked a quick look over the bar counter, then   
ducked back down.

"It's clear," he said with a smile.

"Now what?" asked Priss, relaxing her grip on her pistol.

"Now we go and find the drug lab Sato's hiding in this building."

"Are you crazy?" hissed Priss. "We're in a building crawling with trigger-happy Yakuza   
gangsters, with someone else tossing around explosives, and you want to go sightseeing?"

Leon smiled at her. "A quick look around, I promise."

"Five minutes ago, you told me it was going to take more then a possible drug lab to keep   
you from mine `glowing presence' tonight."

"I think a possible attack by Nemesis qualifies."

"You stuck up-" 

"Hold that thought, I'll be right back." With that, Leon crawled out from behind the bar.   
Priss started after him, but Leon was back before she got far. "The main floor is crawling with   
Sato's men," he said in a whisper.

"Then how the hell are we going anywhere?"

"Over there." Leon pointed to a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.

"I don't know why the hell I went out with you."

Leon gave her one of his `I know what I'm doing' smiles. "You wouldn't go out with me if   
I was boring."

"I wouldn't go out with you if I thought you'd get me killed!"

"Look, if I can pinpoint where the lab is, I can pass on the information onto the N-  
Police, and let them handle the bust."

"That's assuming that Nemesis leaves anything to the N-Police to find." A large, rolling   
explosion shook the building, knocking over bottles and glasses. A fine layer of dust settled   
over everything.

Leon glanced up. "That's a strong possibility. So, we'd better hurry."

"Wait a minute." Priss unbuttoned two of her shirt buttons, reached inside her shirt, and   
pressed something attached to her bra. She rebuttoned her shirt and glanced at Leon, who had   
taken a sudden interest in the wall behind him. "You can stop staring at the wall. I'm   
finished."

Leon looked at her. "What did you just do?" the ADP Inspector asked. 

"Called for help. If you think you're going to be dragging me into a probable war zone   
without backup, you're out of your mind!"

"Shall we go?"

"You lead - that way everyone will be firing at you first."

"Thanks," muttered Leon. "Anything else you want to say before we start?"

"Yea," replied Priss. "Do you always do this type of thing on the first date?"

Leon shrugged. "No. I usually wait until the second or third date to get my girlfriends   
involved in major shootouts. But since I know you have a pistol, and know how to use it, I   
figure why wait?"

"I'm not your girlfriend!"

"Details, details. Let's get moving before Nemesis completes his job."

=========================================================

Sylia's apartment  
February 10, 2036  
10:18pm

Sylia glanced up from the book she was reading, and stared at the blinking light on the   
small box. She reached over and picked the box off the table. Priss's beacon. Is she in   
trouble again?

She stood up, and hurried to the computer room. With a few pushed buttons, she brought   
the system up from standby mode to full operation. In seconds, she found where Priss's beacon   
was located. Hmm. . . . District eight. Corner of Meji and Twenty Fourth . . . Better check   
the N-police and ADP channels, and see if it's a Boomer sighting.

In several more seconds, she'd accessed the communications channels, and listened to the   
police chatter.

//X-ray 43 Beta to Base,// said a male voice tinged with excitement.

//Base here,// replied a young, and slightly bored female voice. //What do you have to   
report?//

//We're at the corner of Meji and Twenty Fourth, District 8 . . . We have a developing   
situation here . . . We have upwards of three hundred people in the process of fleeing the Fu-  
Shui nightclub . . . And at least one of the upper floors of the nightclub's building is on fire   
. . . Requesting backup, ADP TAC units and the Fire Department, Stat . . . //

//Say again, X-ray 43 Beta. What is happening there?// The voice no longer sounded bored.

//I'm not sure. I'm now hearing sounds of automatic weapons and explosions coming from   
inside the building. I think we've got a major battle going on.//

//X-ray 43 Beta. Can you enter the building?//

//Negative, Base. X-ray 43 Alpha tried that a minute ago. The doors are guarded by suits   
with assault rifles, and they don't look too happy.//

//Understood, X-ray 43 Beta. I am dispatching TAC teams Three, Five, and Eight to your   
location. Also, Indigo Four is also on route. ETA is nine minutes.//

//I hope they hurry. . . .Base, did you have any K-11's in the area?//

//Negative, X-ray 43 Beta, Why do you ask?//

//Because I just saw what looked like three K-11s fly into view, and headed toward . . .   
.// There were the sounds of explosions, and machine gun fire. The voice of the police officer   
was back, panicky and shrill. //I'm under attack! Repeat, I'm under at-//

A large explosion was followed by several seconds of static. Then an older, but no less   
shaky voice came over the channel. //Base, this is X-ray 43 Alpha. X-ray 43 Beta is down, and   
unit X-ray 43 is on fire. We have at least three, repeat, three Jager class Combat power suits   
in operation.// 

//X-ray 43 Alpha, this is Base,// said a male voice, full of authority. //Can you confirm   
the presence of Jager power suits in your vicinity?// 

There was silence for a second, then the officer on the scene replied angrily, //I spent   
three years around the damn things when I was in the Army, Base! They're Jager Hunter/Killers   
class power suits, loaded for bear, and don't give a rat's ass about who is in the way!//

//Hold on X-ray 43 Alpha. ADP TAC teams are on the way.//

//Screw the ADP! Call out the JSDF! This is military hardware we're dealing with, not   
rogue Boomers!//

//Where are the Jagers now?//

//They've headed for the roof of the building that's on fire. I can't see them anymore.//

//Understand, X-ray 43 Alpha. Hang tight, help is on the way.//

//I hope so. X-ray 43 Alpha out.//

Sylia listened for several more seconds before she activated Nene and Linna's alert   
beacons. She got up and left the computer room. It was time for the Knight Sabers to enter the   
fight . . .


	10. Chapter 10

Fu-Shui Nightclub   
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:21pm

The two thugs sent for the Gerlitch Rifle returned with it and several magazines worth   
of ammo. Satoru directed them to set the antiboomer weapon at the far end of the hall. As the   
thugs secured the weapon for use, there was the sound of an explosion from outside the building.

Satoru snarled at one of his men, "Go find out what that was."

The hood ducked into one of the offices, and was back five seconds later. "There's a N-  
police car on fire twenty meters from the front door."

"Any idea what happened?"

"I don't know, sir. There were no other signs of battle."

At that moment, Tetsu approached Satoru. "Sir, the Red Wind Jager team is on the roof."

Satoru scowled at him. "Now I know why the N-police car is burning," he hissed. "Can't   
those fools do anything right?"

"I don't know, Sir."

"Enough about them. What's the latest on the fires upstairs?"

"Ochoa reports the fires are almost out. He said that they should be able to move through   
the fifth floor in another three minutes."

"I want The Jagers to lead the advance down the stairs."

"But the stairways are too tight for the suits to move through."

Satoru looked away in anger, thought for a minute, then looked back at Tetsu. "In that   
case, I want the Jagers to come through the windows on the fourth floor. While they do that, I   
want Ochoa and his men to come down to the fourth by the stairs."

Tetsu nodded. "You want to force Nemesis to come down the stairs to this floor?" 

"Exactly," replied Satoru. "Post two men in the offices at the far end of this floor, and   
I want everyone else to get behind the Gerlitch, and stand by to fire on my orders."

=========================================================

Nemesis double checked the charges he'd planted, grateful for the foresight to pack   
waterproof detonators. The water sprinklers had reduced the fires he'd started to smoldering   
piles of ashes. I should have disabled the water mains too, only the plans didn't show them!   
Oh well, let see how Sato makes a profit off these ashes.

He straightened just as Sarge called him. "Trouble, Sir."

"What?" 

"The first of the Yak power suits just landed on the roof, They just took out a N-police   
car, and at lest one officer."

"You're still holding your primary position, aren't you?"

"Yes Sir, I am. And it's a good thing I did stay."

"Why?"

"I got a good reading on the Yak power suits as they came in over me. They're not ADP K-  
11s - they're Jager Hunter/Killer Class, and they're fully armed."

"Shit," breathed Nemesis. His suit's weapons would have a difficult time against the   
heavier armor of the Jagers, while the power suit's firepower would easily penetrate his armor.   
He might be able to take out one, but not any more then that. "How many are there on the roof?"

"Three at the present time. But there's more on the way."

Nemesis thought for several seconds, then made his decision. He couldn't fight three   
Jagers in this hardsuit. "I'm aborting the rest of the mission. The papers in the Nightclub's   
safe will have to wait. Stand by for retrieval."

"Standing by. I'm also bringing the heavy hardsuit on-line, just in case you need the   
extra firepower and armor."

"That's a good idea. Make sure the suit's carrying the maximum weapon load."

"I always do. See you in a couple of minutes."

"I hope so. Nemesis out." Nemesis stepped back from the circle of explosives he'd made   
on the floor. The circle was four feet in diameter, outlined with a thin, putty like substance.   
Four small boxes, each with a blinking light, had been placed at the cardinal points.

Nemesis stepped back and pushed a button on his forearm control panel. The circle exploded   
with a solid thump that shook the building. Smoke and dust filled the air, the water having only   
a mild effect on the cloud.

Nemesis reached the hole in two strides and dropped into the hole. As he did so, the   
windows exploded in, sending jagged pieces of glass through the air. He caught a glimpse of   
the stocky Jager power suits as they crashed through the windows before he disappeared through   
the hole. Perfect timing.

The fourth floor exploded as the timing explosives Nemesis had set went off. What win-  
dows that hadn't been destroyed by the Jagers were blown out by the force of the explosion.   
The walls, floor, and ceiling, designed to survive an earthquake, cracked under the force. 

A series of large fireballs rolled through the open space, incinerating nearly everything   
in their path. Most of the flame shot out the windows, showering the street below with fire.   
None of the support pillars survived the explosion, or the fireballs, intact.

The Jagers, designed to survive warfare, did a little better. Only one of the Jager suits   
was destroyed by the massive explosion, mostly because it was standing between two of the demo-  
lition packs when they exploded. The twin shockwaves and following firestorm crushed the suit   
and incinerating the pilot inside. The other two suffered severe fire and concussion damage, but   
were still operational.

By the time the pilots recovered, Nemesis was gone. 

 

Both Priss and Leon crouched on the stairwell landing between the second and third floors,   
and felt the building rock under the massive explosions. Chunks of plaster fell on and around   
them, covering them with a fine white plaster. The sound of the explosion pounded their ear-  
drums.

They'd discovered the emergency stairwell after slipping inside the door marked EMPLOYEES   
ONLY. The first two flights of stairs were no problem, but now things had just gotten   
complicated.

"What the hell was that?" asked Priss, wiping some of the plaster off her face.

He looked up the stairwell, then back down to Priss, who was behind him. "Sounded like   
the entire fourth floor," he replied thoughtfully. 

"Not funny, Leon."

"Who's joking?"

Priss glanced up the stairwell. "It sounded like a lot of high explosives going off all   
at once."

"Nemesis," replied Leon grimly. "I forgot to mention that he has a `scorched earth' policy   
when it comes to his targets."

"You forgot?" Priss glared at him. "We're in a building crawling with Yakuza, a hardsuited   
hitman, and you forget that one of the players in this deal likes blowing up people and places?"

He looked at her. "Yes, I forgot. Is that a crime?"

"Has anyone told you that you can be such a jackass at times?"

"Daley tells me that every time I turn him down." 

"Like I said, Daley's too good for you."

"True." He listened for a second. There were the sounds of several bursts of full auto   
fire, muffled but still discernible, coming from the floor above them. There was a thud of a   
grenade, then screams, then more automatic weapons firing. He looked at Priss. "Time to scrub   
the look-see, and get the hell out of here."

"Now he gets the idea," muttered Priss.

"I thought we could beat Nemesis to the drug labs," he said frankly. "But he beat us to   
it, and he's on his way down. I think we better get the hell out of the way."

"Makes sense, but -"

"Down!" shouted Leon, as his Redhawk snapped up and started to track something on the   
stairs below. Trusting Leon's judgment on this, Priss dropped as flat as she could on the floor   
of the landing. She heard someone curse from the stairs below, then the sound of a firearm bolt   
being pulled back.

"ADP!" Leon shouted. "You're under arrest!"

More curses, followed by movement, in the form of footsteps on the stairs. The roar of   
the magnum in the confined area of the stairwell was deafening.

By the time Leon fired his second shot, Priss had turned onto her side, her own pistol   
pointed in the same direction as Leon's revolver was pointed. "I can't see anyone!"

"They pulled back," replied Leon in a monotone.

"Did you hit anyone?"

"Yea. He's not getting up anytime soon."

Priss moved to look over the stair's edge, but Leon's hand stopped her. "I wouldn't,"   
he said slowly. "Both shots caught him in the head, and I'm using Boomer rounds."

Priss grimaced. Using Boomer rounds on a human was akin to using a sledgehammer to swat   
a fly. "What do we do now?"

"We can't go down."

"Brilliant, Leon. Can you pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time too?"

"So, we go up."

"I take the brilliant statement back."

"If you've got any ideas of your own, I'm all ears."

"Sorry, left my ideas in my biker leathers."

"Up it is." He started up the stairs, staying low and close to the far wall. Once he was   
halfway up the flight, Priss followed.

============================================================

Nemesis' controlled drop from the fourth to the third floor had destroyed a desk, desktop   
computer, and assorted knickknacks on that desk. Without pausing, he rolled clear of the   
wreckage and into a corner of the office.

As he did so, the burst of fire from the exploding fourth floor poured out of the hole.   
Multiple fires were ignited as the fire roared across any flammable material. In a matter of   
heartbeats, most of the room was an inferno.

As quickly as the fire burst appeared, it died out. But the damage had been done. There   
was still plenty of fire around the room, and getting worse. Nemesis rose to his feet, feeling   
the heat from the fire around him. He ran through the fire for the door, reaching the door in   
several strides.

As he reached the door, it began to open. Without slowing, Nemesis crashed into the   
door. The door was not designed to hold up under the force of a hardsuited human, and it   
splintered. The two gangsters who had tried to open the door were sent flying into the wall   
opposite the door. Two rounds from his railgun put them down for good.

Nemesis heard a shout to his left, and he turned in that direction. A small group of   
thugs was clustered around a large ugly looking weapon at the end of the hall. He saw Satoru,   
waving a pistol around, shouting out orders and pointing to Nemesis.

A couple of the hoods managed to point their machine guns at him, and opened fire. Nemesis   
dodged to the right and pointed the grenade launcher at them. Most of the slugs burned through   
the air where he had been standing, though a couple of them struck glancing blows on his armor. 

Before the rest of the gangsters could open fire, Nemesis triggered the grenade launcher.   
The flash\bang grenade exploded amongst them with incredible force in the confined area. Two   
of the hardmen died instantly, the proximity of the shockwave and bright flash being more then   
their bodies could stand. The others were rubbing their eyes or holding their hands over their   
ears in an attempt to regain the use of their senses. 

Nemesis didn't give them the chance. The vibrosword slipped free of his sheath, and he   
charged at the stunned Yakuza members. Two of the hoods who tried to bring guns to bear on the   
charging vigilante fell with railgun spikes impaling them. As he approached, Nemesis saw Satoru   
stagger away from his men, and toward the door leading downstairs.

By then, Nemesis was among the gangsters. He ducked a half-blinded Yakuza's wild swing,   
and ran the man through. As he pulled the vibrosword free, he turned to his right and kicked   
another Yakuza in the stomach. The man dropped dead, the blow instantly fatal.

After several more seconds of close combat, none of the Yakuza in the hall was alive.   
Nemesis surveyed his surroundings, and noted the large ugly weapon looked undamaged. He reached   
down and pulled it out of the small pile of bodies. He examined it quickly and saw it was still   
functional.

A Gerlitch antiboomer Rifle. I can use this. He reached down and picked up three   
magazines for the rifle and looked in the direction of the stairs. Your turn, Satoru. 

==============================================================

Leon and Priss reached the top of the stairs just as the door leading to the third   
floor flew open. A figure staggered out, waving a pistol. He was looking back over his   
shoulder, and there was a look of sheer terror on his face. It took several seconds for   
Priss to recognize the man as the one who'd they met at the front door - Satoru.

The Yakuza man fired his pistol several times at something behind him. There was the   
sound of metal striking metal, then a hollow voice, cold and still like the grave said, "You   
lose, Satoru."

Both Leon and Priss were still crouched low on the stairs. Leon reached up, grabbed the   
gangster's ankle, and pulled. Satoru screamed as he fell, his pistol falling from his hand. As   
Satoru fell, a loud crack echoed through the stairwell, and the wall behind the Yakuza man   
exploded.

The three of them covered themselves as the air became filled with chunks of cement and   
plaster. Priss looked up at Leon. "What the Hell was that?" she yelled, her ears ringing from   
the sound.

"A Gerlitch antiboomer Rifle," replied Leon, pulling the semiconscious Satoru toward him.

"Who the hell is using one of those to kill a human?"

A shadow emerged from the doorway. Priss first thought was Boomer! But once it   
stepped out in the hallway, Priss saw it was a hardsuit, dull black in color, carrying a huge   
rifle with the same ease as a solider carrying a normal rifle. There were scars and pits in   
the armor, but the stylized skull painted over the faceplate was unmarked.

It looked down at the three of them, the muzzle of the still smoking rifle pointing over   
their heads. "Inspector McNichol," said a cold voice from the hardsuit. "Fancy meeting you   
here."

Leon was looking up at the hardsuit, all the while crawling over Satoru to shield him.   
"You must be Nemesis."

"I am," the hardsuited vigilante replied, his voice distorted by the electronics. "I   
suggest you stop protecting Satoru there. He isn't worth it."

"So you can murder him?" Leon shouted. "Who made you Judge, Jury, and Executioner?"

"His own actions convict him."

Meanwhile, Satoru was trying to wriggle out from under Leon, and escape. Leon slammed an   
elbow into the back of the Yakuza man's head, and Satoru stopped struggling. 

Leon looked up at Nemesis. "I'm placing him under arrest."

"On what charge?"

"Drug manufacturing."

"There's nothing left of the drug lab, Inspector. And there's not going to be a lot   
left of this building when I'm through here. I suggest that you and your lady friend here   
clear out, now. Sato's deploying Jager class power suits, and that means trouble."

Leon pointed his Redhawk at Nemesis. "I'm still placing Satoru under arrest, for no   
other reason then to protect him from you!" he yelled. "I know your rep, Nemesis. You don't   
draw down on police officers, even dirty ones. So back off, and leave Satoru to me!" 

Priss didn't realize that she'd been holding her breath until Nemesis raised the long   
barrel of the Boomer rifle until it was well over their heads. "Very well, Inspector," Nemesis   
said. "I know he'll be out of jail before you finish the paperwork, but by all means, arrest   
him. I won't stop you."

There were the sounds of footsteps from the stairs below, getting louder as they got   
closer. "Satoru's men, on the other hand," continued Nemesis, "might object to your course of   
action." 

Leon cursed for several seconds. Priss turned and covered the lower stairs with her   
pistol. "Now what, Leon?" she said in a tight voice.

"You take care of your prisoner, Inspector," said Nemesis. "I'll take care of the others." 

The hardsuited vigilante launched himself over the three and touched down on the landing   
below. He turned, pointed the Gerlitch down the stairs, and fired two rounds. The effect of   
the massive rifle being fired in an enclosed place stunned Priss, Leon, and Satoru for several   
seconds. Before the rolling boom faded, Nemesis jumped down the stairs, and out of sight.

Priss tried to listen for the sounds of shots, screams, and other noise of battle, but   
her ears were still ringing from the Gerlitch. She felt someone tap her on the shoulder, and   
she looked up at Leon. He motioned down the stairs with his free arm, the other holding a   
scared looking Satoru by the scruff of his neck. She nodded, and the three of them started   
down the stairs.


	11. Chapter 11

Over District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:31pm

"What do you have on the police channels, Nene?" asked Sylia.

"It's bad and getting worse," replied the redhead, who was sitting at the Knight  
Wing's communications station. "There are reports of several Jager Hunter/Killers class  
power suits in the area, and they're not really choosy about their targets right now.  
The building Priss' signal is coming from is on fire, and there's been a couple of more  
explosions from inside. It's a warzone down there."

"Any idea what's going on?" asked Linna, who was standing beside Nene.

"The Police don't know, but the name 'Nemesis' has been bandied about several  
times. It could be him."

"How are we going to handle this, Sylia?" asked Linna. "We can't just go up  
against Jagers power suits."

"We will try to avoid them if we can," replied Sylia, bringing the aircraft into  
a gentle turn. "Our first responsibility is to help Priss out of whatever she's in the  
middle of. But if the Jagers make themselves a danger to the surrounding area, we won't  
have a choice in the matter."

"And what if it is Nemesis down there?" asked Nene. "Do we try to take him?"

Sylia was silent for a minute. "Not unless he attacks us first," she replied.  
"We're not going to do the ADP's job for them."

"But the man is a killer!" said Linna.

"Every one of his victims has been an active member of a criminal organization,"  
said Sylia. "He's never harmed an innocent."

"There's always a first time."

"Nene, have you checked on the building's ownership?" asked Sylia, ignoring Linna  
for a moment.

"I didn't have the time for a through check. I managed to find out the building  
was purchased eighteen months ago by VMR Limited. Nothing on the company, but the only  
business in the building is the Fu-Shui nightclub."

"I've been there," said Linna quietly. "It's one of the hottest club in the city."

"If these reports are right," said Nene, her face serious, "then it's going to  
get hotter. The fire in the building is spreading, and the Fire Department can't get  
close enough to fight the fire."

"We'll be there in three minutes," said Sylia calmly. "Be ready for anything."

========================================================

Inside Fu-Shui nightclub  
February 10, 2036  
10:33pm

It wasn't hard to follow Nemesis - the vigilante left a trail of dead Yakuza  
gangsters in his wake. Priss glanced at the first couple of bodies they passed, and  
wished she hadn't. Each gangster had died from a single 12mm round that had nearly  
cut them in half. She made it a point not to look closely at the bodies after that.

From in front of them, they heard the occasional crack of the Gerlitch, inter-  
spaced with other gunfire, several explosions, and the occasional scream or yell.  
Priss didn't know if she should be impressed or scared at the vigilante's chilling  
proficiency with the bulky rifle.

Leon held Satoru tightly with one hand, using him as a shield, his other hand  
gripping his Redhawk. Satoru himself wasn't resisting, preferring being a live prisoner  
then a dead man for now. Priss trailed behind the pair, her eyes constantly searching  
for any signs of an ambush.

They reached the ground floor without incident and moved slowly across the now  
deserted dance floor. Priss looked around carefully. "What do you think?" she asked  
Leon.

"I think Nemesis must have eliminated most of the inside security by now." He  
looked at the Yakuza leader. "Right?"

Satoru nodded slowly. He was pale and drawn, looking nothing like the smooth and  
confident man he had been half an hour ago. "There are still the men guarding the exits,  
and the Jager units. Nemesis will not leave this place alive." 

As if to make his point, a flurry of automatic weapons fire came from the direction  
of the front door. That was followed by two flat cracks as the Gerlitch replied, then a  
flash of intense light teamed with a loud bang. The three of them stopped.

"Flash Bang grenades," said Leon. "Do your men have any?"

"No," replied Satoru, looking worried. "But Nemesis does."

Another explosion, followed by several screams, glass shattering, and wood cracking  
reached their ears. After that there was silence.

"Stay here," said Leon. "I'm going to take a look." He moved forward, leaving Priss  
and Satoru standing in the middle of the dance floor. After reaching the hallway leading  
to the main entrance, he turned and gave Priss the high sign and disappeared into the  
gloom.

Priss tapped the Yakuza member on the shoulder with her pistol. "Don't think  
of going anywhere," she growled. "I'm not as thoughtful as Leon."

"I will not attempt anything," Satoru said in defeat. "Right now, I'm safer with  
you and Inspector McNichol then out on the street."

They were silent after that, until Leon jogged backed to them. "Nemesis made it  
out onto the street," he said in a normal tone, but Priss saw he was a bit pale. He  
pointed to an emergency exit off to their right. "Let's use that to get out of here.  
Nemesis left a real mess behind him at the front door." 

The trio moved quickly toward the emergency doors. The doors opened easily,  
leading out onto the sidewalk. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, the shouts  
of people, and the scream of sirens. Priss looked up and her eyes widen as she saw the  
flames shooting out from the windows several floors above her.

"Let's get clear!" Leon yelled, grabbing Satoru by the arm and propelling him  
into the street. Priss followed and the three ran across the street and took shelter  
behind an ADP troop transport. 

There was an explosion that shattered glass and sent burning debris in every  
direction. The night air lit up with flame that turn the area almost into day. Priss  
blinked several times to clear the bright dots that peppered her vision. She slowly  
looked up at the building and grimaced at the sight.

The top four floors of the building were now completely engulfed in fire. Even  
as she watched, several pillars of flames shot through the roof and reached into the  
sky. Like a torch lighting up the night, she thought in amazement. Leon wasn't  
kidding when he said Nemesis had a scorched earth policy.

She tore her gaze away in time to see Leon reached out and grabbed a nearby ADP  
trooper. "Who's in charge?"

"Inspector Wong."

Leon released the trooper and pointed to Satoru. "That man's under arrest. You  
and your partner escort him to ADP headquarters, ASAP."

"Yes sir." The trooper hustled the subdued man away.

Leon opened the door and reached inside for the vehicle's radio. "Daley, it's  
Leon. What's the situation?"

//About time you showed up. Where the hell was you?//

Leon smiled at Priss, who returned it with a smirk of her own. "Taking a look  
at the problem from inside the building."

//Inside? You're kidding me.//

"I give you all the juicy details later. What's going on?"

//About a minute ago, some guy in a black hardsuit came charging out of the  
front door of the building. He paused long enough to take apart half a dozen armed  
Yakuza gunmen guarding the front door, then charged off into the night, followed by  
at least half a dozen Jager battle suits. I've got a major scramble order out to all  
ADP units.// As if to accent Daley's words, there wasthe sound of explosions in the  
distance.

"Did any of our people shoot at the guy in the hardsuit?" asked Leon.

//Negative, and he didn't shoot at us. Let me guess, that was Nemesis, right?//

"You got it, partner. If I know our guy, he's going to try and draw those Jagers  
off into a deserted area, then either lose them, or take them out. How's the surrounding  
area?"

//Well, there's an abandoned apartment complex four blocks in the direction  
Nemesis took off in. The place is so run down, even the rats don't hang out there.//

"Sounds like the right type of place. How many units do we have deployed right  
now?"

//Three ADP TAC teams right here, with two Detachments on the way. The N-Police  
has four of their own units here too. There are also two ADP choppers and a N-police  
whirlybird standing by.//

"Get the choppers into the air and start tracking our friends now. Leave one  
TAC team here to round up the survivors, and protect the fire department. Have the  
Detachments stand by to move out. If Nemesis decides to turn and fight the Jagers,  
I want to be able to seal off the surrounding area." 

//You've got it.// 

The roar of a low flying aircraft interrupted the conversation. Leon looked up  
to see a dark shape fly low over the building. He looked at Priss. "I think your ride  
is here."

She nodded, watching the Knight Wing disappear into the darkness. "I think the  
Knight Sabers might decide to give the ADP a hand in this matter."

Leon grinned. "It's been a hell of a date, hasn't it?"

"I preferred mine a little less exciting." 

Leon shrugged. "I preferred our dates didn't finish early because either you  
or me or both of us have to go off to save the city from itself."

Priss reached out, grabbed Leon by his shirt, and kissed him. Leon was too  
surprised to resist. After several seconds, she released him and stepped back. She  
grinned at the stupefied look on his face. "You wouldn't have any other way, Inspector  
McNichols. Later."

She turned and dashed off in the direction the Knight Wing had been flying. Leon  
watched her, not believing what she'd done, but enjoying the sensation of her kiss anyway.

The mood ended quickly.

"McNichol!" shouted a female voice. An ANGRY female voice. 

Leon closed his eyes and muttered, "Anderson."

He turned and smiled at the N-police detective, who was glaring at him from a  
couple of meters away. "Can I help you, Inspector?"

The blonde continued to glare at him. "Has anyone told you you're a pig?" she  
snarled. Behind her, a chastised-looking Kosaku Sanemori stood watching from the safety  
of the ADP police car he'd been driving.

"Not in the last three hours."

"This is a crime scene, not lovers' lane!" Anderson stalked toward him. "Or do  
you make it a habit of allowing pretty bystanders kiss you?"

Leon sighed. "Until about twenty minutes ago, I was on a date, a date with that  
'Bystander'. We happen to be inside the nightclub when Nemesis hit it."

She stopped less then a meter from him. "And how in the hell do you know it was  
Nemesis?"

"There's not many people wearing black hardsuits with a stylized skull painted  
on the faceplate running around MegaToyko at the present time, is there?"

"You saw him?"

"He was as close to me as you are now."

"Didn't you try to arrest him?"

Leon's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Hell, yes. He's a criminal, and you're a police officer, or at least you're  
posing as one."

Leon felt the start of a very big headache coming on. He fought to keep his  
anger down. "I didn't try to arrest him for two reasons. First, I was in the process  
of keeping Masahiro Satoru from becoming road kill, courtesy of Nemesis. Name rings  
a bell?"

Anderson nodded. "One of Sato's senior advisers. The second reason?"

"The second reason is Nemesis was using a Gerlitch antiboomer Rifle to try and  
take out Satoru. Do you have any idea the damage one of those rifles will do to a Boomer,  
let alone a Human?"

"I'm familiar with the Gerlitch," replied Anderson stiffly. "Those weapons are  
too heavy for quick -"

Leon cut her off. "Well, Anderson," he said angrily "I've got news for you.  
Nemesis wasn't having any trouble using the Gerlitch, and there's a number of bodies  
n that building to prove it. Add the small fact that Nemesis was carrying enough armor  
on that hardsuit of his to make any threat of force I could muster laughable."

"Nemesis has never attacked a police officer."

"But he's never stuck his hands in the air and surrendered when told to do so  
either, has he?"

Anderson's eyes narrowed. "Where's Satoru?"

"On his way to ADP HQ. Of course, he'll be out before we're finished here, but  
he's still alive."

"And Nemesis?"

"He's playing tag with several Jager power suits off in that direction." He pointed  
toward the direction Nemesis had flown off in. Several explosions could be heard, mixed  
in with the sounds of autofire and screeches of missiles. "I was about to direct the  
containment operation. Want to watch?"

"All right, Cowboy, you're on."

"We'll take your car, if you don't mind."

"Fine by me. I borrowed it, and Sanemori, from you guys anyway."

"Come on, then."

Seconds later, the ADP car, light flashing and sirens screaming, roared off in  
the direction of battle.


	12. Chapter 12

District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:35pm

Nemesis dodged another flight of rockets at the last second. The spread of   
unguided missiles struck a couple of parked cars, turning them into fireballs that   
lit up the surrounding buildings. Several pieces of debris struck his hardsuit, but   
he didn't slow to check for damage.

He saw a flash of light in the sky, and thought for a second it was another   
explosion of some sort. But the rumble of thunder told him that nature was involved   
in its own plans. Finally, a break. A bad thunderstorm will degrade those Jager suits'  
sensors a good thirty per cent. Should even the odds a bit.

There were at least three Jager suits in pursuit of him now, but he knew there   
was more converging on the area. The Gerlitch was gone, its barrel twisted and useless.   
The Hardsuit's weapons were also useless, with little or no ammo left. So, he was running   
full out, dodging erratically and presenting an elusive a target as he could manage.

I just need a bit more time. "Sarge, where are you?"

//In position at point YANKEE, five hundred meters southeast of you. I've got   
you on my scope. I also have four, unidentified targets one hundred twenty-five meters   
behind you, and two more on an intercept course coming in from the north.//

Damn it! "How far are the two on the intercept?"

//Next intersection.// 

He looked up, and noticed he was quickly approaching the intersection. He was   
maybe thirty yards away now. "ETA of the new guys?"

//Fifteen seconds.//

Nemesis zigged to his right, then cut back left sharply. "Can you drop smoke   
rounds onto that intersection?" 

//Already on it.// Three soft thumps followed, then Sarge said, //Smoke away.   
Impact in ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . .//

The vigilante altered his course slightly, heading for a wedge-shaped sports car   
parked near the intersection. I don't have many options here, so lets try something   
they don't expect.

//Seven . . . six . . . five . . . //

As he reached the car, he didn't slow, but leapt onto the hood of the car. The   
car hood, not designed to hold the weight of such a heavy object, buckled. Another   
stride carried him to the roof, with much the same result as the car hood. His injured   
ribs flared in pain, but he ignored it.

//Four . . . three . . . two . . . .//

As he took another stride, he activated his jetpack and launched himself into   
the air toward the intersection.

"ONE!"

Three large explosions occurred three meters above the intersection. Instead   
of shrapnel, the mortar shells released thick clouds of black smoke that rapidly   
expanded. As the clouds merged onto one wall of impenetrable smoke, Nemesis flew into   
the cloud. As soon as the cloud swallowed him, he cut the thrusters and dropped to the   
ground. When his feet hit the ground, he rolled, ignored another flare of pain from   
his injured ribs, changed direction, and started running toward the rendezvous point.   
Behind him, he heard the heavy crack of the Jager's twenty millimeter rifles firing   
into the smoke.

He was clear of the smoke now, his suit powered strides putting more distance   
between himself and the Jagers. The rendezvous point, a trio of abandoned apartment   
buildings, was coming up on his left. He could just make out the large truck sitting   
behind a partially collapsed wall.

"I see you, Sarge. Coming in now."

//I've got you on visual. The Jagers are beginning to move clear of the smoke.//

Nemesis cut to his left, just as the first Jager emerged from the smoke. "Can   
you keep those suits off of me long enough to change?"

//On it. Activating point and antiboomer defenses.//

Two dark objects rose out of the truck's roof, swung around in Nemesis' direction,   
and stopped. The one closer to the front of the truck was the shape of a long flattened   
box. The other object, mounted farther back on the trailer, looked to be more cylindrical.

//Point and anti-boomer defenses are active. First target in range in three...  
two...One.//

On the trailer, the cylindrical object spat a meter long burst of flame. The   
burst from the minigun passed over Nemesis's head by slightly more then a meter, and   
slammed into the first Jager suit to come into view. While the small caliber slugs   
didn't penetrate the suit's armor, the impact was enough to send the suit staggering   
back.

Before the Yakuza pilot could recover, the other object opened fire. A spread   
of four missiles struck the Jager, tearing large gashes in the armor. The miniexplosions   
threw the Jager back several meters. It hit the ground hard, and didn't move.

Nemesis raced around the corner of the wall, just as an opening appeared in the   
truck's side, near the rear axles. Without slowing, the vigilante leapt through the   
opening and into the truck.

The inside of the truck was shrouded in red from several lightbulbs set into   
the ceiling. The forward part of the compartment was a compact command and control   
station where Sarge monitored Nemesis' attacks. Farther back, the mid part of the   
compartment was lined with shelves holding weapons and extra ammo. The rear of the   
compartment held the extra hardsuit in an open-faced locker. As Nemesis unlatched   
his helmet, he heard the missile launcher on the roof open fire again.

Sarge was there, unsealing the hardsuit even as Nemesis removed his helmet.   
Without speaking, the vigilante stepped out of the hardsuit, wincing in pain as he   
did so. 

"You're hurt," said Sarge.

"It'll wait."

"At least let me look at it, then."

"No time for that now." Nemesis moved toward the other hardsuit. "What's the   
weapon's load?"

Sarge sighed. "Minigun is carrying Anti-Boomer load -- set to five-round bursts,   
three armor-piercing, one explosive tipped, one tracer, last five in the ammo bin are   
tracers."

Nemesis climbed into the heavy hardsuit and began sealing it up. "Missiles?"

"Left pod is twelve fire-and-forget SS-3s, right pod is thirty saturation   
rockets, grouped in cluster of five. Railgun has an extra magazine attached in place  
of the plasma torch. Vibrosword is still in place." 

"Good." With the suit sealed Nemesis reached for his helmet. "I'll draw the suits   
away from here. Fall back to point X-RAY, and monitor the action from there. Keep their   
communications jammed as much as possible."

Sarge nodded. "One other thing you should be aware of, Sir. What Yak communications   
I haven't been able to jam, I've been listening to."

Nemesis placed the helmet over his head. "And?" he prompted.

"And the Jager pilots are not Yakuza. They're mercenaries hired by Sato to pilot   
the suits. They don't give a rat's ass about Yakuza traditions. So, anyone caught in   
the crossfire is dead meat."

"Then I'd better make sure they don't get the chance."

"Right." Sarge flipped a switch on a nearby console, and the door to the outside   
again. "Luck, Sir."

Nemesis sealed the helmet and went out into the night.

====================================================

Over District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:39pm

Sylia glanced down at the scene below her.

The burning building lit up the night like a torch among fireflies. By the look   
of it, the building was a complete loss.

"Sylia!" called out Nene. "It's Nemesis. He's just broken free of the containment   
around the building, and he's moving east with several Jager suits in pursuit."

"They've got a positive ID on him?" asked Linna.

"Yes." The redhead sounded distracted. "The ADP is setting up a containment area   
centering on an abandon apartment complex four blocks from here."

"Have you contacted Priss yet?" asked Sylia.

"She's online right now. Want to talk to her?"

"Patch her through."

There was several seconds delay before the familiar voice of Priss could be heard   
over the channel. //About time you guys showed up!//

"Are you all right?" asked Sylia.

//I'll survive. What's the plan?//

"Can you give me your location?"

//I'm two streets off to your left. I'm tracking the ADP on foot. Can you see an   
empty lot from up there?//

Sylia slowed the Knightwing to look at the ground below her. "The only clear area   
is that abandoned apartment complex the ADP is centering on."

//Not good. How about one of the buildings?//

A flash of light off to Sylia's right caught her attention. At the same moment,   
she heard Nene yell, "Someone's got a missile lock on us!"

Sylia immediately banked the Knightwing hard to the left, and slammed her hand   
down on the countermeasures' buttons. Several small canisters shot away from the aircraft,  
traveled a short distance, then exploded. Smoke, laser reflecting chaff, and small   
transmitters spoofing the Knightwing's radar image scattered across the night sky.

"I'm tracking five missiles heading toward us!" shouted Nene, her voice hoarse   
with fear. "Impact in twenty seconds!"

"Hang on back there!" Sylia yelled. She released another round of countermeasures   
and push the Knightwing's engine's throttle to full. The aircraft gathered speed in a   
desperate attempt to escape the missiles.

Nene kept a running commentary on the location of missiles. "There's seven of them   
now... two have gone after the first set of countermeasures. They're using laser and   
radar guidance to track us . . . "

"I'm releasing smoke," ordered Sylia, her voice tense. 

A billowing black cloud of smoke poured from the tail of the Knightwing, covering   
the area between the aircraft and the oncoming missiles. Sylia sent the Knightwing into   
a steep climb. The aircraft responded and started gaining height. "Where are the missiles,  
Nene?"

"Did you see where the missiles came from?" shouted Linna.

"NO!" Nene shouted back. Then, in a calmer voice, she said, "Three missiles at   
fifteen seconds. The others have been spooked by the countermeasures and smoke."

"Any identification on them?"

"I think they're Type 25s SAMs," replied the redhead quickly. "They can be used   
by Jagers power suits."

"The Yakuza is firing at us?" shouted Linna, a trace of panic in her voice.

"They might think we're allied with Nemesis," said Sylia cooly.

"But we're not!"

"They don't know that. Nene, time to missiles?"

"Ten seconds."

Sylia tapped the countermeasure button one more time, then banked the Knight   
Wing hard to the right into a shallow drive, in an effort to evade the last of the   
missiles.

It didn't work.

Two of the remaining missiles disappeared in explosions as they latched onto the   
fake signals of the countermeasures. But the third passed under the countermeasures   
cloud and bore in on the Knightwing.

"Sylia!"

Nene's warning shout alerted Sylia that she hadn't been successful. She slapped   
her hand on the countermeasures' buttons, level off the aircraft and hoped it was enough.

It wasn't.

At the last second, the missile chose the signals coming from the countermeasure   
cloud, and dove into the middle of it. The explosion sent shrapnel in every direction,   
including the direction of the escaping aircraft. The Knightwing, less the one hundred   
meters away from the explosion, shuddered as several pieces tore through the port engine   
turbine.

Moving quickly, Sylia shut down the port engine before it could tear itself   
apart. There was some sluggishness in the controls, and she fought to keep the Knight  
Wing level. "Damage reports," she said, her voice icy calm. 

"The port engine is damaged," replied Nene, her voice tense. "There's some damage   
to the portside flaps and sensory nodes."

"I'm going to have to land her near here."

"WHAT?" chorused Nene and Linna. 

"I'm not about to risk crashing into a building until I know exactly what's   
wrong."

Just then, Priss cut in. //Sylia! Are you guys all right?//

"We're coming in for an emergency landing," replied Sylia. "Nene, find the largest   
open space nearby."

"We have no choice." The redhead became more excited as she continued. "The   
apartment complex where Nemesis was heading for! It's the only place within a thirty-  
block radius that has an open area big enough to land the Knightwing!" 

"There's no other place?" asked Linna.

"We either land there, or risk falling out of the sky onto an occupied building." 

//I'll meet you there,// said Priss. //Priss out.//

Sylia's jaw tightened as she concentrated on landing the damaged aircraft in one   
piece.

=====================================================

Leon slammed on the brakes, throwing all three occupants of the car forward   
into their safety harnesses.

"What the hell?" snarled Anderson, her blonde hair covering her expression of   
anger.

Leon ignored her, unbuckled his harness, and got out of the car. Anderson,   
followed by a pale-looking Sanemori, also got out of the car. Leon continued to ignore   
them and looked up as the familiar shape of the Knightwing, trailing smoke, flew in the   
direction of the apartment complex. Not good.

He felt someone tapping his shoulder. He turned away from the crippled aircraft   
and faced Anderson. "Sightseeing again?"

"The Knights Sabers," he said, looking back up at the aircraft. "They're going   
down in the middle of the containment zone."

"So?" snarled Anderson, looking unimpressed. "They're as much wanted by the Law   
as Nemesis is."

"Do you want a four-way battle?" asked Leon sharply. "We've already got Nemesis,   
Yakuza power suits, and the ADP converging on that spot! All we need are a couple of   
rampaging Boomers, and we'd be set!"

"Leon!" shouted Ko, still looking pale. "Daley's on the line!"

Leon leaned inside the car and grabbed the mike. "What's up?"

//Someone in a tractor trailer just came charging out of the containment area   
just before we sealed it off. No ID on it, but it's managed to lose the pursuing AD   
Patrol cars and disappeared into the traffic.//

"Forget that for the time being," said Leon quickly. "Can you see the Knight Wing   
from your position?"

//Affirmative. She looks like she's taken apounding. She's heading for the   
Southeast corner of the apartment complex. There's enough room there to land.//

"Tell the squads in that area to stay clear of the Knight Wing and its occupants.   
Let's try and keep this a simple war for the time being, OK?"

//You'll get no argument from me. Daley out.//

Leon replaced the mike into its spot on the dash and straightened. "Break out the   
stomach guns, Ko." he said. "We're going to go hunting Jagers."


	13. Chapter 13

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:37pm

Nemesis stayed in the darkest shadows of a ruined wall, tracking the chaos going   
on around him. His sensors had fragmentary identification of at least three Jagers suits   
landing inside the bounds of the apartment complex, and his onboard computer estimated   
that there at least two ADP detachments on the outskirts of the complex.

Hopefully, they'll stay out there, he thought. Jagers are almost as bad as   
Boomers.

He glanced at the sensor display again. The nearest Jager is anywhere between two   
hundred to fifteen hundred meters to the North. I should go see if they can play hide   
and seek.

A crack of lighting made him look up. As he did so, his sensors picked out an   
object that was darker then the night sky flying over him. What is that? An ADP aircraft?  
His onboard computer had nothing in its files that matched this object. A Yakuza   
spotter? Or, maybe a news team's aircraft. 

Whoever it was, they were in trouble. His suit's audio sensors told him the craft   
was using only one engine, while his visual sensors could see that the aircraft was   
wobbling. Flying at about two hundred meters, it was heading for the only open area -   
the parking lot way off to Nemesis' right.

I hate unknown factors. "Sarge, can you hear me?"

//Loud and clear. I am at point X-RAY.//

"I've got a plane going in for a crash landing to the southwest of my position.   
Can you ID it for me?"

//Affirmative. ADP channels are saying it's the Knight Sabers, and it looks like   
they took a Type 25s SAM in the engine.//

Damn! Damn! DAMN! What are they doing here? "Keep me appraised of their   
status. If they're here after me, I'll be force to make a run for it. Get ready to cover   
me if that happens."

//Understood. Sarge out.//

The clouds were thickening rapidly now, the promise of an extreme thunderstorm   
clear in the flashes of lightning. Any time now.

Moving at a shambling run, the vigilante headed North.

=======================================================

District 8   
February 10, 2036  
10:38pm

The landing Sylia made was probably the worse she ever made. Which meant she   
did a better job of it then most pilots would have done in her situation. With only   
the starboard engine still running, she kept the nose of the Knightwing up with through   
sheer stubbornness on her part.

Her target was a fairly level area about half the size of a soccer field, the   
dirt packed down to the hardness of cement. Large dirt hills and junk piles covered   
most of the area surrounding the landing area. There was little room for error, and   
even less time. 

Sylia managed to keep her voice level as she said, "Nene, Linna, strap yourselves   
in. There's no telling how bad the landing's going to be. Nene, is there anyone near us?"

"Negative. I've got something moving toward us, but it's still seventeen hundred   
meters away. I think it's an ADP vehicle."

"Understood. Twenty seconds to landing."

No one said anything as Sylia guided the damaged aircraft toward the landing site.   
The strain on the starboard engine sent the needle on the tachometer into the red, and   
the aircraft began to wobble. Sylia gripped the joystick even tighter, straining to keep   
the aircraft from flipping over.

The landing site was clearly in view now, growing larger every second. Releasing   
her right hand from its death grip on the joystick, Sylia reached down and pulled several   
leavers back. The sound of the undamaged engine changed as all the thrust was channeled   
into the VTOL jets. She then lowered the landing gear before she reclaimed the joystick   
with both hands.

Almost at once, the Knight Wing lost both forward and down momentum. The vibration   
in the joystick lessened some, but Sylia still held it tightly. "Are you two strapped in?"

Both Nene and Linna answered her with quick and worried "yeses."

At the last second, Sylia pulled back on the joystick as hard as she could. The   
nose of the Knightwing came up slowly, but it came up just enough to keep the aircraft   
from plowing into the hard earth. First to hit was the rear landing gear, hard enough   
to send the Knight Wing bouncing into the air several meters before it came down again,   
hard enough to rattle Sylia's teeth. The nosed dropped and the front landing gear impacted   
hard on the earth.

Sylia's hand slapped down on the ignition cutoff switch. The noise of the straining   
engine died away in the night air. For several seconds, she closed her eyes and exhaled   
slowly.

"Sylia!" called out Linna. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," replied Sylia, opening her eyes. She unbuckled her safety harness. "Are   
you two all right?"

"We're OK."

"Right." Sylia got out of the pilot's chair."Nene, I need you to run the Knight  
Wing's diagnostic routines. I want to know how much damage we sustained."

"I'm on it."

"Linna, get the Motorslaves out on guard duty. After that, I want you to give me   
a hand in checking the damage to the portside engine."

"What about Priss?" asked Linna.

"Nene?"

"Patching you through right now, Sylia."

Priss' voice, full of worry and concern, came through loud and clear. //Why   
don't you answer me? Are you guys all right?//

"We're fine," replied Sylia. "We're down and in one piece - barely. Where are   
you?"

//About two blocks from the apartment complex. Where are you?//

"We're in the southeast corner of the apartment complex."

//Damn! That's on the far side of the block from where I am! It's going to take   
me twenty minutes to get to you guys, assuming I don't run to any trouble along the   
way.//

"Get here as fast as you can. We've got Nemesis, Yakuza Jager suits and, the ADP   
all converging in this block. This could be a real mess."

//Tell me about it! Leon and I had a close encounter with Nemesis not more then   
twenty minutes ago. Avoid him if you can - he must have taken out at least a couple of   
dozen Yakuza gunmen at the nightclub with a Gerlitch rifle.//

Sylia frowned. "After we get out of this, I want you to tell me everything you   
saw. For now just get here."

//I'm on my way.//

Sylia broke off the connection. "Let's get moving," she told the others.

=========================================================

Priss frowned as she peeked out from the alley. Not again! she thought as   
she saw the two ADP personnel carriers and their occupants barricading the street half   
a block down from where she was.

She'd seen the Knightwing pass over, wobbling like a drunken bird before she lost   
it in the cluster of buildings. There had been a moment of fear deep inside her as she   
tried to contact Sylia and the others and received no reply. Only when she had finally   
gotten through did she realize that she'd been holding her breath. Now she was determined   
to get to the team.

But she hadn't counted on the ADP response. Scowling, she slipped back into the   
shadows and grimaced as lighting lit up the sky, followed quickly by the rumble of thunder.  
Damn! I've got to keep moving! The team needs me! Fingering her holstered pistol, she   
carefully leaned out and looked up and down the street. At least there's no one else out   
here.

With the exception of herself and the dozen or so ADP troopers, the streets were   
deserted. There would be crowds later, when it was all over, but for now everyone was   
staying away, not wanting to add to the body count with their own corpses. MegaTokyo   
residents learned long ago to stay out of ADP's business, which Priss was grateful for   
tonight.

She inhaled deeply, then dashed across the street to the ally beyond. She listened   
for Shouts or running footsteps from the direction of the barricade, but heard none. The   
shadows swallowed her up and she jogged toward the next intersection.

=======================================================

ADP Command trailer  
District 8   
February 10, 2036  
10:41pm

Leon pulled the pursuit car to a halt next to the ADP command center. Daley walked   
up as Leon climbed out of the car. The redhead smiled at Anderson, who returned it with   
an icy glare. Ko just climbed out and said nothing.

"What's the latest?" Leon asked Daley, as he tossed the keys to Ko.

"Not good. They've got five Jager battlesuits in and around the Apartment complex,"   
replied Daley. "They've got another six on the way, ETA seven minutes." 

"Where in hell did they get those Battlesuits?" asked Anderson.

"Beats me," replied Daley

"We can discuss that later," said Leon. He glanced up into the sky. "What's the   
weather report say?"

"Not good. Severe thunderstorms for the next two hours, if we're lucky."

"There goes any chance of air cover. Did the Knightwing land safely?"

"A Squad from Fifth TAC saw it land in a clearing in the southeast corner of the   
complex. Looked like it tangled with the Jagers, but it came down in one piece. Our   
people are keeping their distance for now."

"How long until everyone's in place?"

"Five more minutes and we should have the block sealed off. But with no air cover,   
we can't pin either Nemesis or those Jagers down for any length of time. They can just   
jump or fly over our barricades." 

Leon looked up at the surrounding buildings. "Get some of our heavy weapons   
teams up on the rooftops ASAP. It won't be as effective as air cover, but it's going   
to have to do."

"Right. How are we going to play this?"

"Carefully. Once everyone is in place, we play it by ear. Maybe Nemesis will cut   
down the odds a bit before we have to go in."

"Or," broke in Ko, handing Leon a Stomach gun. "The Jagers will cut down Nemesis."

"Not if he's on the ball," replied Leon, slamming a magazine into place. "This   
guy has out thought and outfought everyone he's gone up against."

"So far," said Anderson in a cool tone.

Leon turned and smiled at her. "So far."


	14. Chapter 14

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section north  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:43pm

The Jager teams reformed near the base of the northernmost apartment building.   
There were only five Jagers suits, Red Wind Three being incinerated by Nemesis back   
at the nightclub. And of the five, only two were unmarked and fully operational.

The overall leader of the Jager teams, Red Wind One, a hatchet-faced man by the   
name of Malcolm Hijosama, was angry. No, not just angry, Hijosama was pissed. One suit   
destroyed, three others damaged and they hadn't even managed to get a good shot at their   
target. His own suit was one of the damaged ones, and his ears were still ringing from   
the blast on the fourth floor of the nightclub. These were his men, the best he could   
recruit, and nobody was going to make his men look like fools and get away with it.

"Red Wind one to Black Wind one," he snarled into his radio. "What's your ETA?"

Black Wind one was Shinji Natamuyo, Hijosama's second-in-command of the Jager   
force and the closest thing he had to a friend in this world. //Black Wind One . HEre.   
Our ETA is four minETes, tHIrty SecOnds.//

Hijosama frowned. The jamming and the lighting had played havoc with their com-  
munications since they arrived. If it wasn't for the advanced comm system, the radios   
would have been completely useless. As it was, the signal from Natamuyo was only under-  
standable by the onboard computer's dropping in of missed syllables. The result was a   
result that sounded like a DJ Tommy reject. "That's too long," Hijosama said.

//Can't Be hELped,// replied Natamuyo. //The AD. is all OVer the PLace out hERe.   
If we try blasting our way thrOUgh,we'll have them aLL over us liKe ants at a dinNer   
PArty.//

The Jager leader cursed. He was ready to order Natamuyo to blast his way through   
the cops and screw the Oyabun's order, but he couldn't. Sato was not a man to disobey   
on a whim. "Get here as soon as possible. I'll leave a suit for you to home in on. I'm   
taking the others and try to track down our quarry."

//WHat abOut thAt airC.raft We shoT at? Did we hit it?//

"I think so. We saw it go down in the southeast corner, trailing smoke from an   
engine. There wasn't an explosion, so I think whoever it was managed to land the plane   
in one piece."

//WAs iT An ADP aIRCraft?//

"I didn't see any markings on it. If we have time, we'll take a look see, but   
Nemesis is our main target."

//UndERstOOd. BLACk WiNd ONe oUT//

At least the comm system works at short range with no problems. Hijosama   
switched channels and said, "All right. Blue Two, stay here and activate your homing   
signal for Black Wind One to track in on. Blue One and Red Two, take the right. Blue   
Three, you're with me." That would give each pair an undamaged Jager. "We'll head south   
from this point. If you find him,try and pin him down, and call for backup. DO NOT take   
him on alone. I want live soldiers, not dead fools. Got it?"

A chorus of 'yes' followed. Hijosama nodded to himself. "Move out."

========================================================

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section southwest  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:44pm

The Knightwing sat in the middle of the former parking lot. The Motorslaves were   
on the ground, keeping watch while Sylia and Linna examined the damage.

Sylia unlatched the engine cowl for the port engine and shined a small flashlight   
inside. "Nene, what does the diagnostic system say?"

//I've got a red light on the main fuel pump, secondary oil pump, and the primary   
electrical junction.//

The white Knight Saber shined her light in the areas Nene had indicated. She   
frowned as she saw the damage. "The main fuel pump is severely mangled. You had better   
double check the secondary fuel system."

//Secondary fuel system reads as all green.//

"Then switch over to the secondary fuel systems."

//Right.// 

Sylia checked the other parts Nene had listed. The secondary oil pump was only   
slightly damaged, but the primary electrical junction had been reduced to a pile of   
hissing wires that sparked every so often. She ordered the redheaded Knight Saber to   
reroute the electrical systems through the undamaged secondary junctions. After several   
minutes, Nene asked, //How does it look?//

"Not great," replied Sylia. "I think it'll start, but I don't know how long it'll   
run." She glanced over at Linna. "What are the conditions of the portside flaps and   
sensory nodes?" 

"About the same," replied the green Saber, who was on her hand and knees examining   
the holes in the wing. "About two thirds of the portside flaps' electrical system is   
useless, and we've lost four out of six sensory nodes." She turned to look at her leader.   
"Can we get the Knightwing home?" 

Sylia was silent for a moment, then said, "I think so, but it's best I do it   
alone. You two wait for Priss. After she gets here, take the Motorslaves and head back   
to base."

"What?" 

//No, Sylia! We won't leave you!//

"I won't risk your lives."

"Why can't you just activate the remote and come with us?" asked Linna.

"It's not sophisticated enough to compensate for the damage. It could crash on   
the way home and I can't allow that. I'm the best pilot, so it's up to me."

//But you could be killed!// shouted Nene.

"We can't leave it here for the ADP police to confiscate, and I want to avoid   
destroying it if at all possible."

"I think Priss should be here for this," said Linna firmly.

"We can't wait for her. We have to get the Knightwing out of danger as soon as   
possible. That is my final decision."

The words hung there for several seconds, a pall in the night air. A streak of   
lighting cut through the air, the thunder following sounding like an artillery barrage.   
Sylia looked up into the night sky. "We don't have time to argue. It's going to be bad   
enough as it is without adding a thunderstorm to them. Let's get started on the emergency  
repairs now." 

==========================================================

ADP Command trailer  
District 8   
February 10, 2036  
10:46pm

"Do we have a complete perimeter yet?" shouted Leon from the doorway of the   
command vehicle.

One of the comm techs looked up at him. "We're at ninety-two percent containment.   
Fifth TAC is moving into place now. ETA is six minutes."

"Tell Franks he has three minutes, or I'm going to be all over him like a cheap   
sexroid!" 

"Yes Sir!"

Leon dropped from the vehicle's doorway, not bothering using the built in steps.   
He looked at Daley, Anderson, and Ko, all three who were standing around a table with   
a map laid out on it. "Problems?" asked the blonde N policewoman.

"Nothing that a good chewing-out won't cure," Leon replied. "We move out in three   
minutes."

Ko sighed and glanced up into the sky. "I usually like rain," he said. "But I   
hate fighting in it."

Anderson scowled. "Maybe you'd like the Jagers out there to wait until it bright   
and sunny," she snarled.

"Lay off the kid," said Daley with a frown. "He's not saying anything we're not   
already thinking about."

Leon strode over and looked at the map. "What's the layout of this complex?"

Daley placed his finger on the map. "The name of this place is the Drayson Arms   
Apartment Complex. A victim of the Earthquake, but there's a big legal case that's been   
keeping this place as is for years. There are four main apartment buildings - North,   
South, East and West. The West and South buildings are nothing more then rubble, and   
the other two aren't much better. I suggest you circumvent them if you want to avoid   
being caught in an avalanche. The center of the complex has a small administration   
building, and what use to be a park." He tapped the northeast section of the map. "A   
swimming pool was here, but it's half-filled with rubble. The northwest and southwest   
corners were a minimall and tennis courts, but they're nothing more then shells now."

"What about the Knight Sabers landing area?" asked Ko, as he leaned over the   
table. 

"They're lucky. That use to be a parking lot and is the only open area in a thirty-  
block radius."

Leon nodded. "Right. He's how we'll do it. Two squads from each TAC are to move   
into the complex and establish an inner perimeter. We'll bypass the apartment buildings   
and head toward the administrations building. Each squad with three K-11s, 12s or 17s   
for support." He looked up and Daley. "Heavy weapon teams in place yet?" 

"They should be by the time we move out."

"Assign each squad going in a weapon team to act as overwatch. If they see as   
much as a twitch in the shadows, they can open fire. I also want two more squads from   
each TAC backing up their team, in case they need reinforcements or a rear guard in a   
hurry."

Daley nodded. "What are you going to do?"

"Lead one of the teams in of course. I need you to stay here and coordinate - I   
want to keep the outer perimeter as tight as possible." He glanced over at Ko. "I'll   
lead one team, you lead other."

"What about me?" demanded Anderson.

"You're staying put."

"In a pig's eye!"

"Sorry, Detective, but I'm going to have enough problems out there with adding   
a non-combatant to my squad."

Anderson pulled her jacket back to show her pistol on her belt. "I know how to   
shoot!"

Leon's hand was a blur as he stepped forward and snatched the N policewoman's   
pistol from its holster. He held it up. "This pea shooter? Are you stupid enough to   
think that this is going to have ANY effect on a Jager suit?"

She snatched the pistol back angrily. "No!" she snarled. "But I'm not going to   
stand - "

Leon stepped forward until his face was mere centimeters from Anderson's face.   
"Look, Anderson!' he snapped. "This isn't 'cops and robbers' anymore. THIS IS A WAR!   
We have nearly a dozen Jager battle suits hunting a hi-tech vigilante with his own   
battle suit. Add our own local 'heroes', the Knight Sabers, who've landed in the middle   
of this, and we're facing more firepower then THREE ADP TAC teams! We can't wait, as   
much as I would like to, for the Jagers and Nemesis to kill each other off. We've got   
to go in and stop them before they turn this city into their own little war zone. Is   
this getting through your thick skull?"

Anderson glared at him, then turned and stalked away. Daley said nothing until   
she disappeared behind a personnel carrier. "With that much charm, I'm surprised she   
didn't swoon in your arms."

"She was getting on my nerves," replied Leon with a growl.

Daley shrugged. "Do you want me to get on the horn to the local JSDF commander   
and see if we can get some help?"

Leon picked up the stomach gun. "I doubt we'll get any, but it won't hurt to try.   
While you're at it, see if you can scare the chief into giving us access to some of the   
serious firepower. If Anderson comes storming back, have her coordinate with the N-Police.   
The last thing we need is spectators."

A flash of lighting, followed quickly by an earsplitting crack of thunder. Daley   
glanced up at the sky. "I don't think onlookers are going to be a major problem."

Leon grabbed several more rounds for the stomach rifle and stuffed them into his   
jacket pocket. "You never can tell. Ko, let's get going. Daley, stay in contact."


	15. Chapter 15

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:48pm

Nemesis moved carefully through the rubble, sensors alert for the first sign   
of trouble. As he passed a slab of broken concrete, he noticed the first few drops of   
rain hit it. Excellent. Nature's fury is a perfect counterpart to what is about to   
happen. He activated his radio. "Sarge, are you receiving me?"

//Loud and clear.//

"Do you have the locations on those Jager suits that followed me? There's too   
much ground clutter for me to pick them up now."

//Affirmative. I have five targets in three groups on the ground, and six more   
targets closing in. ETA is two minutes.//

"Where is the closest target?"

//I have two targets, designated Group Alpha, bearing at forty-seven degrees,   
fifteen hundred meters. There are two more targets, designated Group Beta, bearing at   
three hundred twenty-five degrees, thirteen hundred fifty meters. Looks like they're   
trying to catch you in a pincer. The last present target is designated Gamma, bearing   
six degrees, seventeen hundred meters and is stationary. I think Gamma is acting as a   
homing beacon for the new targets.// 

"I'm going after Beta Group. Can the mortars reach Alpha?"

//Barely. If they were two hundred meters closer --//

"Wait until they are. I'll move toward Beta. When I'm ready to hit them, I'll   
signal you. I want you to drop two salvos of WP and HE shells on Alpha."

//The high explosive rounds I can understand, but the white phosphorus? I'm not   
certain it'll burn through the Jager's armor.//

"But it should burn out enough of the Jager sensor suites to make a difference."

//You got it.Sarge out.//

Just then, the rain started for real.

As the rain came pouring down, Nemesis' sensor picked up something moving off   
to his left. He stopped in the shadow of a broken wall and turned his head to look in   
that direction. In his helmet, the figure was a mass of gold and red against the darkness   
around it, moving stealthily through the rubble. Ever so often, it would disappear behind   
piles of rubble for a few seconds, then emerge again. As he tracked it, the onboard   
computer flashed up a series of states about the figure. Let's see. . . . Human,   
height about one hundred sixty-five centimeters, weight, approximately fifty kilograms.   
Moving at a thirty-degree angle from me at a distance of fifty meters. An ADP scout? No,   
ADP uniforms are better insulated then this person's outfit. Yakuza? Doubtful. They   
wouldn't just send in one person, and they'd be better armed then this one. Let's see   
if I can identify our guest. 

He switched from the thermal setting to the starlight. The eerie green glow from   
the surrounding objects gave the area a strangeness unmatched by daylight. It also showed   
him the face of the person walking into a killing zone. What the hell is Leon's date   
doing out here?

A couple of lighting flashes heralded the opening of the skies, and the rain came   
down in a solid wall of water. Nemesis frowned. "Sarge, What's the location of Beta   
Group?" 

//I'm not sure. The rain and lighting are interfering with the drones. Last   
position I had them at was at bearing at three hundred twenty degrees, twelve hundred   
sixty meters. What's up?//

"We've got an unannounced guest."

//What?// There were several seconds of silence, then Sarge said, //She was with   
McNichol when I bumped into him in the nightclub. What is she doing out here?//

"I don't know, but she's moving between me and Beta Group."

//Shit. What do we do?//

"Keep tracking the Jagers. I've got to get her out of the killing zone before   
Beta gets too close. She won't stand a chance against them."

//I'll do my best, but I don't know if it'll be good enough.//

=====================================================

Priss didn't bother glaring up at the sky. The rain had started with a vengeance   
and it hadn't taken long before she was soaked to the skin. Someone up there doesn't   
like me.

She knew she was taking a risk by cutting through the shattered remains of the   
complex, but she took it. Trying to work her way around the outside of the police   
cordon to reach her team mates was a time-consuming failure. Assuming I manage to   
find a way through the barricades, she thought, the last thing I need is to be seen!  
Her best chance lay in slipping into the complex now.

Even so, getting into the area hadn't been easy. She'd managed to beat the ADP   
to one intersection and dashed into the rubble and the shadows. Five seconds later,   
two ADP carriers roared into view and closed off the streets. Priss watched the ADP   
troopers unload and set up before she moved off into the ruins.

The ruins were, for the most part, dark. Flashes of lighting lit up the area   
around her for a brief teasing second before it all turned dark again. She stayed as   
close as she could to the piles of rubble without actually tripping over them, but her   
progress was slow. She held her pistol low and close to her side, though she wasn't   
certain that the powerful handgun would be effective against military grade armor.

She glanced at her watch and frowned. I'm taking too long, but if I try to go   
any faster, I'll end up breaking my neck!

Just then, a massive shadow loomed out of the darkness. At the same moment, Priss   
heard the sound of stones being crushed under a heavy weight. Her handgun snapped up and   
pointed at the shadow, but before she could squeeze the trigger, An armored hand reached   
out of the darkness and grabbed the pistol. 

Priss, surprised at the sudden movement, stepped back, trying to pull the pistol   
free. The pistol didn't budge in the shadow's grip.

"Interesting place to find you," said a familiar electronically distorted voice.   
"Or does Inspector McNichol always allow his girlfriends to scout for him?"

"Let go of my gun," snarled Priss. "Or I'll pull the trigger."

"Do that and you'll bring at least four Jagers down on our heads."

A flash of lightning lit up the surrounding night sky. In that brief flash, Priss   
saw that Nemesis had changed hardsuits. This one was larger then the one she had seen   
him in at the nightclub, with more visible weapons, but the stylized skull was still   
present on his helmet. The rain that fell onto the vigilante's suit beaded and left   
water streaks behind as it dripped off the armor.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked with a hiss.

"Get you out of the way. There are two Jagers heading in this direction, and I'm   
going to have a hard enough time against them without you in the line of fire."

"I can take care of myself!" 

"Against a Jager? You don't stand a chance."

A harsh crack of thunder interrupted them. Nemesis glanced at the sky. "Go home,"   
he said quietly. "There's nothing out here that's worth dying over." He released Priss'   
pistol.

"So why are you here?" asked Priss sharply, stepping away from the imposing bulk   
of Nemesis. She ignored the rain that fell on her. "Isn't taking on the Yakuza suicide?"

"You can't kill a dead man," came the soft reply. Then, in a stronger voice, he   
said, "You'd better go. My suit's sensors are picking up approaching targets closing   
in fast." 

"But -"

"Go and tell Inspector McNicholto stay out of this. This is between Shikichi   
Sato and me. This is a war that only one of us will survive. I know the AD Police's   
strengths and weaknesses - they wouldn't stand a chance against those Jager suits." 

"Or against you?"

"I'm trying to save policemen's lives - including Inspector McNichol. I've seen   
too much stupidity from commanders kill good men. I don't want any more good men's   
deaths on my conscience. Now go!" With that, he turned and moved off into the dankness.

Priss shivered, though she wasn't certain it was from the cold rain. She stuck   
her pistol in her belt and debated following him. Better not. He's right about the   
Jagers. Without my hardsuit, I wouldn't have a chance. Besides, the team needs me.

With that thought, she carefully picked a path in the momentary flashes of light   
that ripped through the sky, then made her way through the rubble in the direction the   
Knight Wing. 

=======================================================

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:53pm

Leon glanced up at the night sky, receiving a face full of water for his efforts.   
He scowled and readjusted the rain poncho in an effort to keep dry. It didn't work.   
Strung out behind him were sixteen ADP troopers, a K-12 and a pair of K-11 armored   
troopers, all looking equable miserable. He noticed that all the line troopers had   
slung extra bandoleers of pistol grenades over the shoulders, while half of them had   
grenade launchers in addition to their own assault rifles.

I don't blame them. Jagers are tough enough bastards as it is. If he had   
his druthers, he would have preferred to be wearing the K-12 suit, butthe Chief had   
decided that Leon's habit of losing the armored trooper every time there was trouble   
wasn't "cost efficient." So, he'd restricted Leon from jumping into one unless the   
inspector had the chief's personal permission. The result was Leon hadn't seen the   
inside of an armored trooper in six months, much to his disgust.

But there was nothing preventing him from leading his people into battle, and   
he was dammed if he was going to sit back and let someone do it for him. He adjusted   
the headset he wore. "All teams, this is McNichols. Are you in place?"

Separated by a street and several ADP personnel carriers, the mound of masonry   
and steel waited for them. Portable searchlights were now in place, shining their   
light beams into the complex and lighting up large sections of the destruction. Large   
numbers of ADP troopers were racing around the area, setting up heavy weapons and   
firing positions despite the heavy downpour.

As he watched the activity around him,Leon glanced at the large mounds of   
shattered concrete and rusting steel. He couldn't shake the feel of dread that hovered   
in the back of his mind. You're allowing your imagination to run wild, he though   
to himself. Snap out of it. You have a job to do. 

The other three team leaders checked in rapidly. Once they had finished, Leon   
said, "I'm going to make this simple. We're here to keep this fight between Nemesis   
and the Jagers from spreading beyond this area. I want you to move into the ruins,   
find a solid defensive line and hold it. Does everyone understand?" 

After the chorus of 'yeses', Leon continued. "If the Jagers or Nemesis happens   
to approach your position, you give them ONE chance to surrender. If they refused, or   
open fire at you, return fire. Stay in contact with your backup team, and don't be   
reluctant to call them in if you need them. Is that understood?"

//What about the Knight Sabers?// asked Ko.

Leon hesitated. "Use your best judgement if they are sighted," he said without   
emotion. "We've got bigger problems then the Knight Sabers to worry about. Any other   
questions?" There was silence on the channel. "We move out in thirty seconds. McNichols   
out."

He broke the connection and took a deep breath. He looked at the rubble again,   
trying to shake off that unease he felt. The light lit up the night sky. Nemesis,   
Why the hell did you have to show up here? He looked at his watch, letting the   
seconds tick away in silence. When thirty had passed, he looked up.

"All right!" he shouted. He pointed to the four troopers and a K-11. "You five   
are on the point. The other half of the squad and the other K-11 are the rear guard.   
The other squad and the K-12 are with me in the middle. Any questions?" There were   
none. "Move out!"

========================================================

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section southwest  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
10:59pm

Sylia wished she could wipe her brow, but the hardsuit made that impossible.   
At least I can use two hands for this job, she thought. The pouring rain wasn't   
helping any, and Sylia was glad the suits were insulated every time the sky lit up   
with lightning. "Try the rerouting now, Nene," she said in a calm voice.

//Right.// There was several seconds of silence, then Nene said, //It's holding,   
but I don't know for how long.//

"All it has to do is last until we get home."

"I've finished with the sensor nodes," said Linna from the edge of the wing.   
"It's not the best in the world, but you'll know if anyone is there."

//Are you still sure you want to pilot the Knightwing home by yourself?// There   
was a cautious plea in Nene's tone of voice.

"Yes, Nene. I am still sure."

//But - Hold on, Priss is contacting us.// After several seconds of silence, Nene   
said, //I'm patching her through now.//

"Priss?"

//I'm . . . .// There was a sound like a sneeze, then Priss said, //I'm cold, I'm   
soaked to the skin and I have no idea where you guys are. Can you come get me?//

"Nene?"

//I've got her. She's about three hundred meters east of us, in the ruins.//

Sylia looked off the direction Nene had indicated, and cycled through her helmet's   
settings until she had the thermograph vison. Against the darkness and cold rain, there   
was a small blob of red and yellow near the base of a steep-sloped mound of rubble.   
"Priss, I think I see you. Wave an arm." The blob moved, a yellowish appendage waving   
in Sylia's direction.

"I see her," said Linna. "Do you want me to go get her?"

"Yes. Take a flashlight, but be careful. We're not the only ones out here."

"Right." Linna jumped lightly to the ground and disappeared around the back of   
the aircraft.

Sylia continued to watch the colored blob. "Priss, I'm sending Linna out to get   
you. Stay where you are."

//Hurry up! There's an ugly situation brewing here, and I want out of here!// 

"What's wrong?"

//Nemesis is getting ready to take on several Jagers battlesuits, and the ADP   
have this place surrounded.//

"Nemesis is going to take on Jagers with a Gerlitch?"

//Hell, NO! He somehow got himself another hardsuits, and the damm thing's a   
walking arsenal!//

Sylia frowned. "You ran into him again?"

//Yes.// Another sneeze followed. //He told me to clear out of here.//

Just then, Linna darted out from under the Knightwing and sprinted off in Priss'   
direction. "Linna's on her way," said Sylia.

//Good. Make sure Nene's got a blanket and a hot drink ready when I get there.//

//I will,// replied the redhead.

Just then, there was a flash of light on the ground, followed by the abrupt rumble   
of an explosion. Sylia frowned. Looks like the battle has begun.


	16. Chapter 16

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south-central  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
11:02pm 

Nemesis managed to move several hundred meters into the killing zone since he'd   
told McNichol's girlfriend to stay out of the way. After about a minute of searching,   
he'd located a hollow in the rubble perfect for the ambush, and had just managed to   
settle himself into the darkness when his senors detected movement. Quickly, he placed   
most of his sensors on stand-by and concentrated on the suit's passive visuals. 

Two lighter shadows moved into view from the direction of what had been the   
administration building. The now-constant lightning revealed that there were two Jagers,   
moving in a southerly direction. One Jager was covered with scorch marks and dents that   
gave it a battered appearance, while the other looked undamaged. They were moving into   
one of the least rubble-choked areas in sight, which meant there was nothing for them   
to hide behind.

Not that they needed to hide behind anything in those suits, he thought. In   
those things they're almost invincible. But that feeling might be something I can exploit....

Carefully, he brought the targeting system for the SS-3s on-line. After several   
seconds, he decided to target the undamaged Jager first. Assuming the Jagers' sensors   
are at full power, it should take two seconds, maybe more in this rain, to alert the   
pilot he's been targeted. Maybe another two seconds for the pilot to react. I think three   
should be enough....

Slowly, he settled the cross hairs on his target on the center mass of the undamaged   
Jager. One. . .Two. . .Three. . .Four. . . . On the count of four, he pressed   
the firing button three times. Three missiles rocketed out of the launcher and lit up   
the night with a trio of flames.

The Jager reacted quickly. The twenty millimeter rifle/grenade launcher snapped   
up, its muzzle pointed in the direction of the oncoming missiles. The turret that sat   
on the Jager's back whirled to life and began to spat out shells at the oncoming missiles.   
One of the SS-3s exploded as bullets found it, but the other two missiles twisted and   
weaved their way through the hail of lead.

The Jager tried to dodged out of the way, but it was too late. Both surviving   
SS-3s slammed into the Jager. One missile smashed into the Jager's lower torso while   
the second struck the knee and exploded. The two blasts threw the Jager back and to   
the ground.

As the explosions shattered the stillness, Nemesis charged out of the hollow and   
fired a volley of saturation rockets at the battered Jager. The Jager darted to its left,   
its turret lighting up the night with twin flames. A series of explosions blossomed in   
the air as the rockets exploded in the hail of bullets.

Before the Jager could refocus its attention, Nemesis opened fire with his minigun.   
The volley ripped across the armored torso, sparking and cratering the composite armor.   
The Jager staggered, but didn't fall. Its rifle came up to point in Nemesis' direction   
and opened fire.

Still firing, Nemesis launched itself into the air the hardsuit's jets lightening   
up the rain-soaked night. He heard the bullets pass beneath him and felt one glance off   
his leg. At the height of his arc, the vigilante fired another volley of saturation   
rockets. The Jager slipped to the right, its turret spitting out more lead. While another   
series of fiery explosions blossomed, the Jager fired back with it's own missiles. They   
reached out for the descending hardsuit like fingers of death.

Short of the target, two of the missiles collided with each other as Nemesis'   
ECM computer jammed their sensors. The resulting explosion took out a third missile,   
and the last two detonated as several 15mm rounds found them. The resulting eruptions   
of light and sound, combined with the rain and lightning, made the Jager pilot hesitate,   
and it cost him.

Nemesis dove out of the explosions like a shadow and crashed into the Jager. His   
right foot glanced off the Jager's head before slamming into the turret with enough force   
to wreck it. But the other foot smashed into the Jager's cockpit, cracking the viewports   
and stunning the pilot. The mercenary never saw the minigun burst that punched through   
the already weaken viewports and kill him.

The Jager fell on it's back, Nemesis waiting until the last moment to jump clear.   
He landed several meters away, his minigun up and tracking for the first Jager, but that   
was unnecessary. The first Jager laid where it had first fallen, smoke and steam drifting   
into the wet atmosphere.

//Status?// asked Sarge in a brisk voice.

"Two Jagers down. One confirmed, one probable. Location of Alpha group?"

//Still out of mortar range, but they're moving toward you at about a twenty-five   
degree angle, maybe seven hundred meters.//

"Can you zero in on this location with the mortars?"

//I need thirty seconds in this weather.//

Nemesis pulled a small black box off his belt and dropped it on the remains of   
the second Jager. "You've got twenty. I dropped a homer on one of the dead Jagers, so   
that should simplify the problem."

//On it. The other Jagers have joined Gamma and are moving South, looks like   
they're hooking up with Alpha, give them two minutes. Hold it. // There was a burst of   
static, then Sarge said, //Three of the Jagers seem to be hanging back -- now they're   
moving to the southwest. I'm designating them Group Delta. Distance to them is twenty-  
three hundred and increasing.//

"Any ideas what Delta's doing?"

//The only thing over there is the Knight Sabers.//

Nemesis frowned. "Is the jamming still effective?" 

//It's holding steady at about sixty-five percent. The rain and lightning is   
adding another eight percent. Hold on.// 

Nemesis moved away from the two downed Jagers, back the way he came. He stopped   
and picked up one of the Jager's rifles, then stripped the dead Jager of an undamaged   
ammo magazine. "What is it?" 

//McNichol didn't take your advice. The ADP is moving into the complex on all four   
sides. They're coming in strength and they're supported by K-suits.//

Nemesis frowned. "Those K-suits won't stand up to Jagers."

//I know. But it's the best they've got, just like McNichol.//

"I suppose that's to be expected. Kagemusha's intel indicates this guy is   
stubborn."

//Kagemusha also reported that McNichol likes to lead from the front, so he's   
out there somewhere.//

"If it was any other time, I'd admire his abilities, but getting officers killed   
against impossible odds is not my idea of leadership." 

//Neither is going up against rampaging boomers with anything less then a rocket   
launcher, but they do it.//

"Keep monitoring them and keep me updated so I can avoid them. Is the fire solution   
ready on the mortars?"

//Ready when you are. WP and HE ready to go.//

"Good. I'm heading North to see if I can get behind them."

//Right. Just be careful, OK?//

"I always am." With that, Nemesis slipped into the darkness like a shadow.

========================================================

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section southwest  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
11:05pm

The inside of the Knight Wing was lit in an eerie red light, in part to protect   
the Saber's night vision, but mostly to conserve power.

Only Sylia and Priss were in the main cabin. Nene was up in the cockpit, making   
sure the monitoring system would work, while Linna stayed outside on guard. Priss was   
wrapped in a thick blanket, a small mug of coffee clenched in her hands. He hair was   
matted and a mess and she looked pale. 

"How do you feel?" asked Sylia. She stood near the hatch, her helmet tucked under   
her arm.

"I'm tired and cold," the singer replied. She looked up at her leader. "How bad's   
the damage?"

"Bad enough. Once we're finished the repairs, I'm taking it back to base alone."

"What?" Priss shot to her feet, the blanket dropping from her shoulders. She had   
taken the chance to change into her innerware, the only dry clothes she had on the air-  
craft. "That's stupid!"

"That's my decision. I'm not going to risk all of our lives."

"No, you're going to risk just your own!"

"There's no other choice. I'm the most experienced pilot, so I have to be the one.   
I've already explained it to Nene and Linna."

"You haven't explained it to me!"

"Please." Sylia closed her eyes. "If there was any other way, I would take it.   
But I can't afford to leave the Knightwing here for the ADP to confiscate, nor can I   
afford to destroy it if there's any chance of getting back to headquarters. At the same   
time, I'm not going to risk everyone's lives, and that's final. Besides, if you take   
the motorslaves with you, it'll lighten the load the engine will have to carry."

Priss glared at her, but before she could say anything, Nene called back to them.   
"Guys! I'm picking up several targets heading this way!"

Sylia turned and flipped a switch on the console next to her. The radar screen   
flared to life, showing a trio of blips moving towards the center of the screen. "Nene,   
can you identify them?"

"They're Jagers! ETA is two minutes!"

Priss put the coffee cup down. "I'd better get suited up. I don't think they're   
here to see if they can help us."

"Get the motorslaves," said Sylia, reaching for her helmet. "We'll need their   
firepower."

========================================================

 

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south-central  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
11:07pm

Malcolm Hijosama was the first to see the broken remains of the Jagers. Fighting   
the urge to curse, he said in a harsh voice, "Black One, Stay here and cover us. Blue   
Two and Three, you're with me."

//Be careful, Red One,//said Shinji Natamuyo.

"You can count on that." Hijosama looked up into the dark sky. From what little   
he could see, it looked like the rain would continue. "Damm rain."

//Should we recall Gold Team?// asked Natamuyo.

"Negative. I want to make sure that the aircraft is down for good."

//And if it isn't part of Nemesis' arsenal?//

"I don't want live witnesses."

//The Oyabun won't like that.//

"I run this unit my way, the Oyabun can run his business his way."

He heard Natamuyo sigh. //I still think it's a mistake separating into groups.   
Our communications are still shot to hell.//

"We're six to his one. He won't have a chance."

//Tell that to Groff and Kears.// He motioned to the two still armored forms in   
front of them. //They don't look like they're taking a nap.//

Hijosama scowled. "I told them not to take Nemesis on alone."

//They may never had the chance to decide either way.//

"We can debate that later. Let's see if these two are still breathing."

The Jager leader moved out from the group, followed by two other battlesuits.   
Moving carefully, they reached their comrades. While Hijosama stood watch, the other   
two checked the down Jagers.

//Kears' dead,// said one. //Looks like shrapnel.//

//Not much left of Groff's head,// reported the other. //A minigun at close range   
through the viewport.//

"Natamuyo, are you picking up anything?"

//No, but this weather is playing havoc with our sensors. The bastard could be   
thirty meters away and we'd never see him until he moved.//

Hijosama cursed loudly. "Any sign of our target?" he shouted.

//Negative,// said pilot next to Kears. A flash of lighting interrupted him.  
//I think -- Oh Shit. . . //

"What?" snarled Hijosama.

//There's a transmitter on Kears' armor. Saw it in the last flash of lighting.//

"What type of transmitter?"

Before the Jager pilot could answer, Natamuyo shouted, //INCOMING! Mortar fire,   
impact in five seconds!//

Hijosama shouted, "Scatter!" 

The Jagers were already moving when the first volley of shells hit the area around   
the two dead Jagers. Blossoms of red and yellow mixed with the blinding whiteness of   
phosphorous, lighting up the surrounding darkness with the intensity of a dozen lighting   
bolts. The Jager's turrets, hampered by the rain and lighting, tried to knock down the   
incoming rounds, with poor results. Several more shells landed and exploded with fire   
and thunder. Other shells erupted in blossoms of brilliant white that were both beautiful   
and terrible to see. The shockwaves hammered the Jagers with the fury of insane men with   
sledgehammers. Several of the battlesuits were tossed into the air like toy dolls before   
slamming back onto the hard packed earth and broken concrete.

The mercenary leader felt himself hurtling through the air. He crashed into a   
mound of broken stones, the impact slamming his head into the viewscreen. He felt   
blood trickling from his nose and ears, but ignore it for the moment. "All Jagers,   
report!" he shouted, his voice harsh and raspy.

As suddenly as it had started, the motors stopped. There was silence for a full   
ten seconds. Then a weak voice said, //Oh god, oh god,// over and over again.

"SHUT UP!" roared Hijosama, and the voice became silent. He slowly pushed himself   
up and looked around him. At the sight that greeted him, he felt pure black rage course   
through him.

The area around the two fallen Jagers looking like a scene out of hell. Craters   
dotted the ground, sometimes overlapping each other. Fires were scattered in and around   
the craters, lighting up the area like a beacon pyre. A haze drifted across the area,   
adding another level of unreality to the scene. Here and there, the ground glowed with   
an unusual light. The sounds were a mix of sizzling and hissing that were nearly as loud   
as the oncoming rain. 

Besides himself, Hijosama could see only two other Jagers moving two stand up   
again. They were battered and worn, the armor dented and scorched. One of the Jager   
was missing it's right arm, while the other Jager had lost both its shoulder mounted   
missile launchers and turret. They both moved towards Hijosama like two old men.

"Where the hell is everyone else?" snarled Hijosama.

//Dead,// replied Natamuyo through clenched teeth. //Or wishing they were dead.   
The bastards used High Explosive and White Phosphorus rounds. We didn't stand a chance.// 

"Did you get a trajectory on those mortars?"

//No, it happen too fast.//

//What should we do?// ask the third survivor, a man by the name of Tran.

"We find the bastard and kill him!" screamed Hijosama.

//With what?// asked Natamuyo. //Right now, the three of us couldn't find a   
crippled drunk, let alone kill him. We must retreat and regroup.//

"No! That bastard has killed six of my men! SIX! It'll be a could day in hell   
before I retreat from that son of a bitch!"

//But we don't --// began Tran, then his voice became panicked. //INCOMING!//

Hijosama turned just in time to see a flight of rockets burst out of the surrounding   
darkness and explode around him.

=======================================================

Nemesis didn't wait for the first volley of rockets to explode before he fired   
two more volleys at the damaged Jagers. One of the Jagers was engulfed in a fireball   
as all five missiles struck it. Even as the fireball died, the vigilante cut loose   
with both his minigun and the salvaged Jager rifle fired one-handed. Twin lines of   
fire walked up the torso of a second Jager battlesuit, ripping through the savaged   
armor like cheap tin and into the hardman inside. The suit staggered back before   
landing in a heap a couple of meters away from where it had been standing.

That left only the one-armed Jager to deal with. As Nemesis turned towards the   
last target, the back of the armor blew off, followed by the suit's occupant. The thug,   
cradling his right arm, took several steps before he tripped and fell. Nemesis strode   
towards him, wisps of smoke still curling from the muzzles of the minigun and rifle.

By the time the thug had climbed to his feet, Nemesis was looming over him. The   
man turned, and seeing the specter of death less then two meters away, clawed clumsily   
for his pistol with is left hand. The hot muzzle of the twenty-millimeter rifle pressing   
into his forehead made the man scream and forget about the sidearm.

"What is your name?" asked Nemesis, moving the muzzle back so it was only millimeters   
away from the thug's forehead.

"Screw you!" the man screamed.

The vigilante shifted the rifle's muzzle a meter to the right of the tough's   
head and pulled the trigger. The crack of the twenty-millimeter mixed with the man's   
cry of terror and pain as he held his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to shut   
out the sound. Moving the rifle back to target the man's head, Nemesis said, "Last   
chance. What is your name?"

"Shinji Natamuyo!" screamed the man.

"Are you the leader of this unit?"

"No!" Natamuyo pointed with his good arm toward the blacked Jager corpse of the   
hitman who had died in the fireball. "He was the leader. He name is...was... Malcolm   
Hijosama. I was the second in command."

"I'm letting you live for one reason only, Shinji Natamuyo," said Nemesis, the   
coldness in his voice made even colder by the electronic filter. "Take a message to   
Shikichi Sato. Tell the Oyabun I'm coming for him and it'll take more then Jagers to   
stop me. Understand?"

Natamuyo swallowed hard. "I can't do that!" he screamed. "He'll kill me!"

"If you don't, I'll kill you where you stand right now. Your choice. Five seconds...  
four...three...two...o-"

"I'll do it!" howled the hardman, pain and fear etched on his face..

"Good. Why did you send three Jagers to the southwest?"

"A plane went down. Hijosama thought it was to pick you up, so he sent a team   
after it to destroy it and finish anyone still alive."

Nemesis stepped back. "Go," he said. "If I see you again, I will kill you."

Natamuyo stood there for a second, then dashed off into the darkness. Nemesis   
watched him until the thug disappeared into the ruins. In the corner of his visual   
monitor, he caught a flash of light. He turned in that direction in time to see a   
burst of rapid fire in the distance. "Sarge, what's the status of the last three   
Jagers?"

//Looks like they've engaged someone. Either the ADP or the Knight Sabers.//

A trio of explosions blossomed into the rain-filled sky, followed by several   
smaller explosions. "I'm going for a look-see."

//Is that wise?//

"I have to know for certain."

He heard Sarge sigh. //I'll vector you in. Just be careful, OK?//

"As always." Bracing the Jager rifle with his other arm, the vigilante switched   
the nearly empty magazine for a fresh one, then moved off into the darkness toward the   
sounds of battle.


	17. Chapter 17

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south  
District 8  
February 10, 2036   
11:16 PM

"What do you think, Sir?"

Leon glanced at the squad leader then back at where some sort of battle had just   
ended. The area in question was about five hundred meters in front of Leon's unit, off   
to the right and half hidden by building wreckage. 

Leon frowned. There had been a quick flurry of explosions, muzzle flashes, and   
rockets, a lull of several minutes, then all hell had broken loose as the area had   
lit up bright as day in a series of explosions that lasted several minutes, and even   
now there was a area of flame and light in the ocean of darkness, though the flames   
were slowly dying in the spray of rain. There was too much smoke for the night-vision   
goggles Leon had in his hands to see anything, but he continued to scan the area of   
the battle. The only sounds coming out of the darkness now were the soft drumming of   
rain and the hiss of cooling metal.

Leon's squads was strung out along a ridge of rubble three hundred meters in from   
the street. The crest was high enough to give the ADP force a good view of the surrounding   
darkness when the flashes of lighting permitted. Unfortunately, the ridge did nothing to   
shield them from the steady rain and it wasn't long before they were all soaked inside   
their ponchos, with the exception of the troopers inside the K-suits.

"Should we go in?" asked the first squad leader, a fresh-faced kid by the name   
of Kuroda. "There may be survivors."

Laying on the other side of Leon, the second squad leader, a short ugly man by   
the name of Kincade turned his head away from Leon and spat. He looked at Leon. "With   
all due respect, sir, that's precisely the reason why we should stay here."

"But someone could be dying out there!" said Kuroda sharply.

"Better them then me," replied Kincade. "Saves us the trouble of giving them a   
trial."

"That's enough," said Leon mildly, handing the goggles to Kuroda. "Kincade's right   
in that the only people out here, besides us, are the bad guys."

"And the Knight Sabers," said Kincade gruffly.

"And the Knight Sabers," agreed Leon. "But Kuroda's right. As much as I want us all   
to stay here, we're going to have to send someone to investigate."

"How many are you planing to send out?" asked Kuroda.

"Both squads."

"Makes sense," said Kincade. "Unless it's a trap."

Leon slapped the man on the back. "That's what I like about you-- you always look   
at the bright side of life." He became serious again. "I'm going to call the backup   
team in to take our position here while we move forward and investigate. If we run into   
trouble, we'll pull back and rally here."

"The men ain't too eager to play tag with Jagers," mumbled Kincade.

Kuroda's face was harsh and his tone was hot. "Are you implying that we sit here   
and let do some misguided vigilante do our job?"

The second squad leader shrugged."That 'misguided vigilante' is better armed,   
better trained, and a sight more experienced in combat then we are. Every Jager he   
takes down is one less I have to worry about trying to kill me or my squad."

Kuroda's mouth opened to deliver a stinging rebuke when Leon said, "We've got   
movement out there."

Both squads shifted to cover the darkness before them, M42-A1 machine guns and   
grenade launchers ready to fire. Kincade nudged Leon. "What do you see?"

Leon spoke as he peered through the night vision scope. "I've got a single human   
moving toward us at a forty-five degree angle, about two hundred meters out."

"You want us to go get him?"

The ADP inspector though for a moment. "We'll let him come to us. Send two men   
out to about fifty meters out along his route he's taken and have them wait until our   
suspect stumble into them."

Kincade nodded and slid down the rubble ridge. Just then, Leon's earphone beeped.   
//Command Five to Command Six.//

"Six here," said Leon.

Daley's voice was tinged with concern that came across even on the static-filled   
communications channel. //Ko reported some sort of firefight in the south, near your   
position. Can you confirm?//

"Affirmative. I was about to call the backup team to take over so my team can go   
take a look-see."

//You want company?//

Leon thought for a second. "Negative. I don't want to take the chance of us shooting   
each other by mistake. That's the last thing we need."

//Understood. Anything I should know?//

"When we know anything, you'll know. Send the backup team in on the double, and   
I'll have a couple of my people lead them to us."

//They're on the way. I sure hope you know what you're doing.//

"Well, if I don't, it's too late now."

//Tell me about it. Command Five out.// 

The inspector turned his head to look at Kuroda. "Send two men to make contact   
with the back-up team coming in, then get the rest of the squad ready to move out as   
soon as I give the word." The young squad leader nodded and moved over to the nearest   
man and began giving orders in a soft voice that couldn't be heard by Leon over the   
steady rain. 

Ignoring Kuroda for the time being, Leon went back to scanning the darkness ahead   
of him, keeping an eye on the oncoming human. Half a minute later, Kincade crawled up   
the concrete rubble and laid next to Leon. "Hect and Parsons are on their way." 

Nodding slowly, Leon started looking for the two ADP troopers. It took him several  
seconds with the night vision glasses to find them. Both men were moving slowly through   
the piles of discarded steel and cement with careful steps. Fifty meters away from the   
oncoming figure, the two ADP troopers slipped into a pocket of deep shadow and waited.

The man stumbled past them several minutes later. Even at this distance, Leon   
could see that the newcomer was suffering from some sort of shock. He made no effort   
to resist as the two ADP officers stepped out and grabbed him. Moving as quickly as   
the could over the uneven ground, the trio stated back toward the police lines. 

Leon handed Kincade the glasses. "Keep an eye on things until I've talk to our   
guest." With that, the ADP inspector half walked, half slid back down the man-made   
ridge. He glanced up as Kuroda followed him down.

"The back-up team should be here in ten minutes," said the squad leader.

"Good. Be ready to move out as soon as I give the word."

Kuroda sketched a salute and started back up the ridge. Leon moved carefully through   
the slick rubble, trying hard to ignore the steady rain. It took him several minutes   
to work his way to a slab of concrete that jutted out from the rubble, forming a crude   
shelter from the elements. Several ADP officers were there, most checking their weapons   
for signs of water seepage. 

The officers have rigged up a couple of flashlights, illuminating the cold damp   
shelter. Hect and Parsons were off in a corner, the man they've been sent out to get   
sitting on the cold ground between them, huddled under a blanket. Hect, a stocky man   
with pale brown skin, nodded to Leon as he approached them. "He was carrying this when   
we stopped him." He haded the Inspector a large semi-automatic pistol. "We have a medic   
on the way."

Leon accepted the pistol and looked it over. "Is he hurt?"

"Serious burn on his forehead, several other burns that are not so bad, shock   
and a hell of a lot of cuts and bruises. He said he was out hunting rodents." 

"In this weather?" Leon removed the magazine and removed a bullet from the clip.   
"Ten millimeter hollow points are a bit much for pest control."

The man glanced up at Leon, a look of pure venom on his face. The Inspector saw   
the circular burn on the man's forehead and shook his head slowly. "Of course. If the   
rodents are packing heavy firepower, then this," he held up the bullet, "isn't enough.   
Hect, what type of rifle would leave a muzzle burn like that on a man's forehead?"

The officer shrugged. "Too large to be a Gerlitch. Maybe a twenty millimeter?"

"A good possibility," replied Leon easily. 

"Don't the Jager suits have twenty millimeter rifles?" asked Parson, a tall,   
lanky kid.

"Say, that's right." Leon smiled down at the prisoner. "I think you and I have   
some things to talk about -- later." He looked at Hect. "We'll have a couple of the   
backup team take him out to the perimeter where they can send him back to headquarters.   
Until then, keep him here and quiet."

"I ain't saying anything," muttered the man. "I want my lawyer." 

Kincade strode into the shelter. "Backup team is starting to filter in," he said   
bruskly.

"Good. Get the squads ready to move." Leon turned and walked out into the rain.

=======================================================

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section southwest  
District 8  
February 10, 2036  
11:17 PM

"Ugly suckers," said Priss.

"But they're dangerous," said Sylia. She was about a hundred meters away from   
the Knight Wing, kneeling behind a broken slab of concrete. "When you attack, keep   
moving. Don't let them get a good shot at you, and make sure you stay out of the   
motorids' field of fire. Our hardsuits are faster, but they have more firepower.   
When Nene's pulse strikers are ready, clear out as fast as you can. Understand?"

"Right," the other three responded.

Sylia watched the trio of Jagers moved towards them. She wished she had the time   
to get the KnightWing out of here, but the Jagers were too close to risk lifting off.   
With the firepower that the Jagers had, they could riddle the aircraft long before she  
could have piloted it out of danger. 

"Nene, any luck in cracking their communications?"

"Some," replied the hacker. "They're not using standard military skipping tech-  
niques, but I have about a thirty-five percent matching rate right now. Give me   
another minute and I can push it up to sixty-five percent."

"We don't have another minute!' snarled Priss. "They're going to be in out laps   
in less then thirty seconds!"

"Do you have enough of a match to degrade their communications?" asked Sylia   
before Nene could respond to Priss' comments.

"I think so. Their communications can't be reliable right now because of the storm   
and landscape. My ECM pods will definitely make that worse."

"Stand by, Sabers," said Sylia, watching the Jagers approach the ambush site.   
The trio of battlesuits were moving cautiously through the rubble. They were moving   
in single file because of the wreckage they were moving through was piled up on each   
side of the path, making look like a trench.

Sylia pursed her lips. This was going to be dangerous. The surrounding destruction   
was working in the Sabers' favor, channeling the Yakuza hitmen into a natural kill zone,   
a twisting narrow gully that emptied out onto the mud drenched open space near the Knight  
Wing. Her plan was to hit the Jagers hard and fast enough to send them reeling.

But Sylia doubted that the Sabers would have more then two or three seconds of   
surprise on their side. She didn't know how good the Jager pilots were, but she didn't   
want to underestimate them. Her hardsuits were years ahead of the Jagers in technology   
terms, but the Hunter/Killer suits carried more and heavier weapons and a lot more armor.   
In the hands of a incompetent pilot, the Jagers were dangerous. But if the pilots was   
any good....

She shoved that thought aside as the Jagers approached the point where she would   
give the order. She crouched slightly, letting the rush of adrenaline flow through her.   
Five... four... three...two...one -- "Now!"

She rose to her feet and fired at the lead battlesuit, igniting her flight pack   
in the same instance. She adjusted her aim as she rose rapidly into the pounding rain,  
continuing her assault on the Jagers. In the back of her mind, she noted that both Priss   
and Linna had leapt out from behind the Yakuza killers, targeting the other two battle-  
suits. From behind and below her, she heard the heavy snarl of the motorslaves' weapons.

Sylia's fears were well founded, as the Jagers reacted almost in a heartbeat. The   
lead Jager, ignoring the motorslaves and the other Sabers, fired a short burst from his   
rifle as he used his thruster pack to send him into the dark sky. The other two spun   
and dropped to a knee, missiles, cannon shells, and twenty millimeter slugs from their   
weapons attempting to kill both Priss and Linna. The blue and olive Sabers twisted   
frantically away from the fusillade, their own attack forgotten in the sudden need   
for survival.

The white hardsuited Saber twisted from a small volley of rockets that accompanied   
several bursts of slugs and a shell of some sort, The Jager attacking her twisted in   
mid-jump, trying to lead his target into a massive volley, but the fired ammunition hit   
nothing but cracked concrete and twisted metal as Sylia easily avoided the attack.

The Jager landed on an uneven slab of rock, forcing him to regain his stability   
before attacking. Sylia dropped to the ground more gracefully and opened fire with her   
lasers at a distance of about fifty meters, the twin beams striking slab and making it   
even more unstable. The Jager's jump jets flared to life again and the battlesuit leapt   
into the rain-choked heavens, sending a volley of rockets at its opponent. The White   
Saber shot into the air herself, easily missing the Jager's rocket attack.

The Jagers's next attack was massive, and at the same time, not well-directed.   
Sylia somersaulted, to avoid a burst from her opponent's rifle and turret. She fired   
both her lasers, the storm of light competing with the storm's lighting to turn her   
target into a garish flickering red and white nightmare. Most struck the battlesuit,   
only to be mostly shrugged off by the Jager's armor. However, a small explosion knocked   
the Jager's rifle from its hands, sending the weapon in one direction, the Jager tumbling   
in the direction of the Knight Wing.

"Ready!" shouted Nene, rising up from behind a cracked slab of concrete seventy-  
five meters from the combat.

"Get clear!" Sylia shouted, adjusting her flight path to move clear. As she did   
so, she saw a blur of blue and another of green streak away into the night. It was   
only then she realized she could only see two battlesuits in the kill zone.

Nene saw it too. "Should I fire?" she asked, uncertainty filling her voice.

"Yes!" shouted Sylia. "Priss, Linna, find the other battlesuit and --"

Her radio was suddenly filled with nothing but static as Nene fired her Pulse   
Strikers. The electronic wave slammed into the battlesuits before they were aware of   
the attack. The battlesuits tried to turn and fire at the red and pink hardsuit, but   
eruptions of sparks and flame wreathed them in unholy light. Larger explosions ripped   
through the shoulder-mounted missile pods as missiles succumbed to the effects of the   
attack and detonated. After ten seconds, both battlesuits crumpled, smoke, sparks and   
fires fighting with the steady downpour for supremacy.

Sylia landed near the battlesuits. "Linna, Priss," she said urgently. "Do you see   
the other Jager?"

"No," replied Linna "We lost track when he went after you."

"We have to find him. He was tumbling in the direction of the KnightWing, and I   
want to make sure he's not fight-worthy."

"Why?" asked Priss irritably. "His suit's toast and he lost his rifle."

"He has enough missiles to knock the KnightWing out of the sky. We cannot take   
the chance that he's still active." Sylia turned towards the fourth member, who as   
scrambling over some rocks to reach them. "Nene, I want you to start scanning for the   
missing battlesuit and --"

"Nene!" Priss yelled. "Behind you!"

"What --" Nene spun as the night sky lit up with a enormous flash of lightning   
showing a monstrosity in steel and plastic near the top of a jagged mound of rubble   
not more the thirty meters away from Nene. The Jager was battered and it's right arm   
was missing at the elbow, but it wasn't dead by a long shot. The turret whirled and   
locked onto the red-and-blue hardsuit.

"Nene!" the others shouted, but Sylia was already moving at the Jager in a flat   
out run, her lasers firing a flurry of intense light at the battlesuit. It was up to   
her, as the other two were too far away. She was only slightly aware of the yells of   
Priss and Linna the frighten screams of Nene -- her entire would shrank down to her   
and the Jager. 

In a panic, Nene fired her own lasers at the Jager as she stumbled back and   
tripped, sending her shots wild. The rubble mound the Jager was standing on was   
quickly absorbing shot after shot. Several of Sylia and Nene's shots hit the battle-  
suit, but it ignored them and opened fire at Nene.

At least it tried to.

The turret guns had just started spitting slugs when half a dozen missiles   
streaked out of the rainy blackness behind the battlesuit and ripped into the Jager   
with all the violence of a starving tiger. Detonations ripped trough the battlesuit,   
immersing it in fire and heat. Sylia's helmet visor polarized as the explosions inflamed   
the area in red, yellow, and blue streaks. With a final eruption of fire, the suit   
tumbled to the bottom of the rubble mound, trailing fluid and pieces as it did so. It   
rolled to a stop and laid there, smoke and steam rising into the rain.

There was silence for several seconds, then a crack of thunder seems to snap every-  
one out of their trance. Sylia didn't have to get any closer to know the battlesuit's   
pilot was dead, but he was a secondary concern now. "Nene," she snapped. "Are you all   
right?"

"I think so," the redhead replied slowly, sitting up, holding her still attached   
head in her hands. "I think I bruised my back." 

"Forget your back!" snapped Priss. "Are you shot?"

"Er...." Nene looked down at herself. "Hey! He missed me!"

Sylia reached Nene and looked her suit over. With the exception of a few dents   
and creases, the suit was intact. "You were lucky," she said flatly.

"I know," Nene replied, getting up slowly "But I want to know who took him out."

Sylia jaw tightened as she realized she'd forgotten about their unknown benefactor.   
She turned to the other two Saber who had just arrived. "Priss, Linna, find out who   
fired those missiles."

"There's no need to," replied Linna pointing at something behind Sylia. "I think   
he's here."

Sylia spun as a shadow walked out of the darkness, then stopped. A large armored   
figure with a white stylized skull painted where the face would be stood there. It was   
taller then any of the Sabers, its cold back skin gleaming in the dying flames and flashes   
of lighting. A large, multi barreled, minigun was attached to the right arm, and two   
large drums attached so as to hang over the suit's shoulders, each with several missiles   
peeking out from tubes. It wasn't as bulky as the Jager, but it didn't have quite the   
form fitting appearance of the Stingray hardsuits. What it did have was a aura of menace   
that Sylia could feel. It stood there like an armored Angel of Death, its posture neither   
threatening nor friendly.

"That's him!" hissed Priss over the radio. "Nemesis!"

"Nene," said Sylia. "Can you scan the suit?"

"No. There's a layer of some sort inside that suit that's making it tough to get   
anything solid."

"Keep trying." Out of the corner of her visor, Sylia noticed Linna and Priss   
slowly moving away from her and Nene, their vision never leaving the heavily armed   
vigilante. "Don't make the first move," she ordered them. "I want to see what he does."

Nemesis lowered the minigun until it pointed at the ground. "I take it you are   
the Knight Sabers?" he asked in an electronic altered voice. His Japanese was fluent,   
but it clearly wasn't his native tongue.

Sylia stepped forward. "You must be Nemesis," she replied cooly.

"I am."

"Your appearance in MegaTokyo has stirred up a lot of trouble."

"It was to be expected. I will not be here much longer."

"What do you want from us?" Priss shouted.

Nemesis' head turned slightly to look at the blue Saber. "Nothing except for you   
to stay out of my way." Priss bristled, but held her ground.

"That may not be possible," said Sylia, picking up the conversation again and   
focusing Nemesis' attention on her. "Your style of justice will not be tolerated by   
the law."

"I know that, but I must fight this war my way. Shikichi Sato and the Sleeping   
Dragon Yakuza are my enemy here and now. You are not. I will not fight you unless I   
am forced to."

"Shikichi Sato is a very powerful man in this city. He has money and connections,   
and you have made him lose face. He will not rest until you are dead."

Nemesis nodded slowly. "I knew that when I started. But he knows that I will   
return the favor. Too many people have died because of the evil the Sleeping Dragon   
Yakuza has spawn, here and abroad. But all his lawyers, his money, his men and his   
connections cannot save him from my judgement. I am Nemesis, and I serve Justice."   
With that, he turned and walked back into the darkness, the shadows swallowing him   
up with ease.

"Do we go after him?" Priss asked.

Sylia was silent for a moment. "No," she said. "We've too much to do without   
adding another fight to our list. Let's get out of here before the ADP moves in and   
investigates."

Three of the Sabers immediately started for the KnightWing. Priss stood there   
for a second, staring into the darkness that had swallowed up Nemesis, before she   
turned and followed the others.

=====================================================

Drayson Arms Apartment Complex - section south  
District 8  
February 10, 2036   
11:27 PM

Kincade pulled his gas mask away from his face long enough for him to spit out   
a bead of neo-tobacco juice before he said, "This guy scares me."

"You're not alone," Leon replied, looking at the carnage before him. The remnants   
of more than half a dozen Jager battlesuits were scattered across an area the size of   
a basketball court. There were small stretches of dirt and concrete that glowed dimly,   
which made Leon order his men to use their masks. The ADP officers were moving from   
one Jager suit to another, while others established a perimeter and searched for anyone   
else hiding in the nearby rubble. The rain continued, a steady patient rain that made   
up for its intensity with consistency.

There had been another brief firefight to the west several minutes before, and   
it had taken all of Leon's patience and command savvy to prevent the forward teams   
stationed to cover the west side from rushing in to investigate. The officer in command,   
another bright-eyed type that seemed determined to die early and in battle, finally   
acknowledge the order, but didn't sound happy about it. Just to make sure, Leon sent   
a couple of more experienced officers to 'advise' the young commander.

"I mean," Kincade continued, shifting the small wad in his mouth. "This guy has   
hit at least four of Sato's businesses, killed at least fifty of Sato's men, then,   
to top off his night, he takes on a dozen military-grade battlesuits, and walks away   
the winner. And the brass wants us to take this guy down?"

"Quit bellyaching, and tell me what you think happened here."

The older man was silent for several seconds. "Darwin's law in action," he said.

"Do you want to explain that?" asked Leon.

"The only way that one person can beat six Jagers is for the Jagers to do some-  
thing stupid." Kincade pointed at an area that had at least three Jager remains close   
together. "Clustering together like they did here is stupid. All Nemesis had to do   
was drop enough munitions on that spot to take them out. Also, the area is open, a   
natural killing ground. If the leader of these Jagers would have had the sense of a   
duck, they wouldn't have exposed themselves so."

"How many do you think were caught here?"

"At lest six, but more likely seven or eight. That means we're looking for only   
looking for four or five suits." The older ADP officer squinted at the destruction.   
"Do you know something?"

"What?"

"If I didn't know any better, I would have said that these guys were on the wrong   
end of a mortar barrage. That would explain the glowing areas -- it's probably white   
phosphorous."

Leon looked over the area, and something that had been nagging him in the back of   
his mind suddenly came to the forefront of his thinking. "Where the hell did Nemesis   
get all this firepower?" he asked out loud. "When he left the building, all he had was   
one unuseable rifle. How in the hell did he take them out?"

"That's what scares me," replied Kincade in a quiet tone.

"What about Nemesis? Do you think he managed to escape this in one piece?"

"I don't see another body, so it looks like he got away." Kincade spat out more   
of the brownish juice. "Assuming our boy left any evidence he was here, we ain't going   
to find it until morning, if then."

Leon nodded. "Any chance of ID the bodies?"

"Depends on what condition the bodies are in. If we're lucky, we'll just need   
fingerprints. If we're unlucky --"

"Yea. We'll need genetic samples." Leon looked around the battlefield. "Make sure   
you check for serial numbers on those Jagers!" he shouted to the men investigating the   
suits.

One of the men leaned closed to a shattered Jager, only to be grabbed by another   
officer and yanked away. Leon, spotting the incident, shouted, "What's going on down   
there?"

"You'd better see this!" the second officer shouted back.

Shaking his head, partially in frustration, but mostly to shake some of the water   
off his hood, Leon started over to the battle sight, trailed by Kincade.

"What's up?" Leon asked as he approached the two ADP officers.

"That," said Parsons, who was the second officer, pointing to something in the   
bottom of a small crater. The item was buried an unknown distance into the soft muddy   
dirt, but the fins that were sticking out were cleanly visible.

"Mortar round," said Leon slowly.

"Yep," Kincade confirmed. "Looks like either an eighty-one or a ninety millimeter.   
Unexploded."

"Everyone clear this area!" Leon called out. "Kincade, get on the radio and get   
a bomb disposal team in here ASAP. I want that shell defused and intact as evidence."   
He glanced over at Parsons. "Did you find any live ones in the suits?"

Parsons' snort was loud. "Most aren't even intact enough to determine if they   
were even human. Most are going to be closed casket-type funerals."

"I want a perimeter kept in place until the bomb disposal people get here and   
defused this shell." The troops scattered, and Leon and Kincade walked away from the   
mortar shell.

"This is not good," Kincade muttered.

"Tell me about it," Leon shot back, then stared up into the sky as if he was   
looking for a break in the clouds. "Word on the street is that several of the Tongs   
and other Yakuza gangs are building up for a possible war."

"The sharks are smelling blood."

"Exactly. If we don't stop Nemesis and soon, we're going to wish that we were   
facing only rampaging boomers."

"When Sato hears about this, he's going to go through the ceiling."

Leon looked at the older man. "You think he's going to do something drastic?"

"He's loss a hell of a lot of face, not to mention money, men and firepower."   
Kincade motioned out at the dead Jagers. "This is something Sato has to stop here and   
now, or he's going to be on the wrong end of a feeding frenzy from the other gangs in   
the city. Assuming he stops Nemesis cold sometime in the next twenty-four hours, he   
might get the others to back off for now. But Nemesis is giving Jimmy Chee and a couple   
of other Triad leaders ideas that Sato doesn't want them getting. Sato's going to have   
to do something public and quickly."

 

"How long do you think we have?"

"Maybe forty-eight hours for Sato to do something. If he doesn't, expect a gang   
war twenty-four hours later."

Leon closed his eyes. "About what I figure," he said with a growl

//Command Five to Commnad Six!// Daley said over his radio.

The ADP Inspector keyed his mike. "Daley! What do you have?" 

//Maybe some luck, for a change. We found Kelly Gamble.//

"You did? Where?"

//He was in a car the N-police pulled over for a routine traffic stop. We've asked   
that he be transferred to ADP custody as a 'material witness,' and the N-Police agreed.   
He should be back at headquarters by the time we get back there.//

"About time something went right for us."

//How much longer are you going to be? Anderson is chomping at the bit to go talk   
to Mr. Gamble.//

"At least another half hour. I'm not leaving until we've accounted for every Jager.   
The last thing we need is one of these guys to escape."

//I don't think she can wait that long. She giving Ko and earful right now.//

"The kid needs the experience with interdepartmental cooperation," replied Leon   
lazily. "If Anderson gives you any more lip, tell her she can come out here and take   
charge."

//She might take you up on that.//

"I need her out here like I need an extra mouth. If you want to give her some-  
thing to do, tell her to start leaning on the organized crime department. Sato's   
taking heavy losses, and I'll bet my next two paychecks that someone's going to try   
and take advantage of the situation. I would like to know who the front-runners will   
be if and when the shit hits the fan."

//No bet. I get her started on the organized crime angle right now. Who knows?   
It might keep her out of hairs for a couple of minutes.//

"Now who's the one making the sucker bet? Hang tight, I'll give you a call when   
I'm on my way out."

//Don't be too long. If words were sharp instruments, poor Ko would be an eunuch   
by now.//

Leon chuckled. "Well, try and restrain her long enough to get started on those   
OC briefings. I'll talk to you in a while."

Just then, the howl of jet engines filled the night, coming from the west. Leon   
and Kincade turned in time to see something rise into the sky. "What the hell?" Kincade   
said.

"The Knight Sabers," Leon said.

//Hey, Leon!// Daley called out. //We've just gotten a report that three of your   
sweethearts just came roaring out of the complex on those motor-whatever of theirs   
and into the night. Do we pursue?//

"With what?" Leon asked. "We've still got several Jagers unaccounted for, plus   
Nemesis. I'm not going to divide up our forces to go chase everyone."

//I hear you, but Anderson seems to be a bit put out.//

"Tell her that the Sabers are the least of our problem We still have a heavily   
armed vigilante and several battlesuits unaccounted for. Ask her who she thinks is   
the bigger danger."

Leon heard a scuffle at the other end, then the furious voice of Anderson on the   
radio. //What kind of idiot are you?// she yelled. //The Sabers are wanted for a whole   
host of crimes, including murder, grand theft, destruction of property, trespassing,   
and illegal weapons ownership! What the hell are you thinking about?//

"How about the fact the Sabers are home-grown, but Nemesis is only in town for a   
limited engagement?" Leon shot back. "We've got Nemesis down for at least seventy-five   
homicides, arson, destruction of property, plus a whole hell of lesser charges, and   
that's only in the last twenty-four hours! Do you really want me to drop everything   
and go after the Sabers?"

There was a snarl of frustration, then Daley was back on the channel. //You   
definitely have a way with women,// he said.

"Get her onto those organized crime reports and out of my hair," Leon replied,   
watching the KnightWing disappear into the black sky.


	18. Chapter 18

District 9  
February 11, 2036  
12:39am

By the time Leon stalked into ADP headquarters, he was tired.

The rain had finally let up as he was walking out of the ruins, but by then, he   
was beyond caring. Daley had volunteered to drive him back to headquarters, while Ko   
kept an eye on things at the scene. Anderson had finally went off to talk to someone   
at OC about those reports on the pretenders to Sato's crown.

Leon slept most of the way back, a cloth bag sitting on his lap the entire time.   
It was only when Daley nudged him as they approached the building did Leon stir.

"What's in the bag?" Daley had asked him.

"Evidence," Leon had replied, stretching.

"Do you want to talk to Gamble now?"

The big Inspector nodded. "Might as well."

Those were the last words Leon said until they reached the interrogation room   
that held Kelly Gamble. Without knocking, Leon walked in, Daley behind him. With the   
exception of a bored-looking officer in the corner, the only other person in the room   
was Kelly Gamble.

Gamble was short, slim and dressed in a suit that probably cost more the Leon   
made in two months. He had sharp features which gave him the look of a weasel or ferret.   
His hair, dark and usually slicked back was in mild disarray, and from the pile of short   
butts in the cigarette tray on the table, Gamble had been waiting awhile.

"How much longer are you going to keep me here?" he asked, his voice surprising   
deep for such a thin man.

"Depends," Leon replied, opening the bag he carried and reaching inside it. "What   
can you tell me about this?" he dropped the dud mortar round on the table in front of   
Gamble. 

Gamble looked at the shell, then back at Leon. "I take it this isn't a live round?"   
he asked in a flat tone.

"It was a dud, but I had the EO team remove the firing mechanism and explosives   
from it. It's a shell, nothing more."

"Were you trying to scare me?"

"Not really." Leon dropped the back, pulled out a chair from under the table,   
turned it around, and straddle it. Daley leaned on the wall next to the door. "I just   
want your opinion on it."

Gamble's eyes drifted back to the round. "May I pick it up?" he asked.

Leon wave a hand. "Go ahead. It's not going to explode."

The arms merchant picked up the shell and examined it. "It's a eighty-one milli-  
meter mortar round," he said, his eyes never leaving the object. "American made, about   
twenty years old. It's been reloaded, by an expert armorer, but something went wrong   
with the fuse." He looked at Leon. "Where did you find this?"

"In the middle of half a dozen dead Jagers battlesuits."

Gamble nodded. "That would explain some of the rumors I've heard."

"Which ones?' asked Daley.

"That a vigilante calling himself Nemesis is in town."

"It isn't a rumor," replied Leon. "He's here and he's pissed off at Sato and the   
Sleeping Dragons."

"Oh." Gamble was silent for a moment. "You want to know if I have dealt with   
Nemesis, correct?"

"According to my sources, you're one of three Arms dealers in this city that   
carry fifteen millimeter, Teflon-tipped, hydroshock specials."

"And the other two are?" 

"We can talk about them later. Have you sold either mortar rounds or bullets   
for what is probably a GMMA Whirlwind-III minigun in the last two weeks?"

Gamble leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "It sounds like you're on   
a fishing trip," he said flatly. 

"The fish I'm after is a high-tech vigilante who is about to push this city into   
a major gang war." Leon leaned forward. "You know the players. Sato's been taking hits,   
and sooner or later one or more of the others is going to try and grab a chunk of Sato's  
empire."

The arms dealer shrugged. "I might think that would be a good idea, if I was in   
a position to profit from it. Good for business and all that."

Wrong," said Daley. "That means dead civilians and police officers. Which means   
if we find evidence that you sold even so much as a bullet that's used in a crime,   
we'll charge you with conspiracy."

"I'm shaking in my boots," Gamble replied, not opening his eyes.

"I don't think he's worried about us," said Leon slowly. "Of course, if Nemesis   
decides to expand his war, Mr. Gamble here is likely to be first on his list."

"You're still not scaring me."

"Does the name Yvon Heuse ring a bell?"

"Not really."

"He was in the same business you are in. His base of operations was Miami, in   
the United States."

"So?"

"So, four years ago, his entire operation was razed to the ground by Nemesis. In   
four days, Heuse and almost every single one of his men were dead or in prison, and the   
police found enough hardware to equip a large army."

Gamble opened one eye slightly. "Again, so?"

"So, Nemesis has access to inside information. If he finds out you supply Sato   
with weapons, he might –"

The arms dealer sighed. "You are not scaring me."

Leon stood and lean over the table. "Well, I've met Nemesis, face to face, and he   
scares me." His voice became hard. "He went through at least fifty of Sato's men tonight,  
including nearly a dozen men in Jager battlesuits!"

The second eye opened. "You're blowing smoke." Gamble said.

"No I'm not. The morgues are overloaded with dead Sleeping Dragon members. Sato   
had a dozen Jager suits before tonight. Now he doesn't have any. Most of them were taken   
out by Nemesis in the last three hours. He left one survivor – the rest of the Jager   
pilots are dead, and most of them are going to have closed-casket funerals. Would you   
like to see the pictures? I sure I could have a batch run off especially for you."

"I see." Gamble's eyes opened. "I suppose you'll find a way to 'plant' the   
information that I've been supplying Sato with weapons?"

"I know some people that will not only make sure the word gets out, but supply   
pictures and a soundtrack that will you show you talking to us about your customers."   
Leon's face was still and hard. "You customers will think you've sold them out."

"They won't believe that." Despite his statement, Gamble's voice was less sure   
then it had been, and apprehension began to appear in his eyes.

"Not all of them. But how about Jimmy Chee? Or Adrik Smirnovski? They don't strike  
me as men who will let such 'evidence' pass without taking action."

"Jimmy is crazy," said Daley, "And Adrik is a ruthless son of a bitch. I wouldn't   
bet you lasting more then two weeks."

"More likely a week," said Leon.

"What do you want?" Gamble asked in a resigned voice.

"Have you sold any fifteen millimeter, Teflon-tipped, hydroshock specials in the   
last two weeks."

The arms dealer nodded. "Twenty thousand rounds, about ten days ago."

"Describe the buyer."

"A single man, maybe mid-forties, a bit on the short side, broad-shouldered,   
crewcut with gray in it."

A short, broad-shouldered man with a graying crewcut rapidly emerged from the   
corridor....

Leon looked startled for a brief second, but he quickly recovered. "Did he give   
you a name?"

Gamble shook his head. "He called himself John Smith and paid in cash."

"What else can you tell me about this buyer?"

"He didn't say much, but I would guess he was an American, and there was an air   
of the military around him."

"Military air?' asked Daley.

"Yea, the son of a bitch stood there like a ramrod had been jammed up his ass."   
As he continued, Gamble warmed up to the subject. "His eyes didn't miss a thing, and   
he gave the impression that he could take out everyone in the room before they knew   
what hit them, then his backup team would take out anyone left."

"Was he alone?"

"As far as I know he was. But this guy struck me as someone who had a back-up plan   
in place, just in case something went wrong."

"Fine," said Leon. "We're going to need a complete description of this man."

"I can do better then that. If you give me two hours, I'll get you pictures of him   
from my security cameras."

"All right."

Gamble stood. "May I leave now?"

"Go ahead."

"Thank you." The Arms merchant walked to the door, but stopped short. "Would have   
really faked that evidence?" he asked, not looking at Leon.

Leon leaned back in his chair so he could look at Gamble. "If I thought I could   
save one innocent life, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Gamble nodded. "I see. Thank you." He opened the door. A pair of ADP troopers   
stood there.

"These two officers will escort you to the sidewalk," Leon said. After the door   
closed, Leon looked at the officer in the corner. "Wait outside."

Daley waited until the officer left. "You're becoming a better liar in your old   
age."

"I've had plenty of experience."

"What happened if he'd called your bluff about the faking the evidence?"

"Broken out the rubber hoses."

"Oh come on. You know it'll take three weeks for the request for rubber hoses   
to go through channels." Daley became serious again. "You recognize the guy our friend   
described."

"It sounds like a guy I bumped into inside the nightclub just before everything   
went to shit. The pictures Gamble has will prove or disprove my suspicions."

"Do you think this guy is Nemesis?"

"The guy in the hardsuit? No. But I think he's working with Nemesis." Leon put   
his feet up on the table. "When we get the pictures, I want to run his image through   
all the data banks we can get into, especially American military ones. Someone has to   
know this guy."

The redheaded Inspector sighed. "You're playing a longshot."

"There about the only ones we have left right now."

"Anything else tonight?"

Leon shook his head. "I want a meeting of all the detachment commanders and all   
department heads at nine o'clock this morning. As of right now, we're in a stage one   
alert, all leaves canceled, all field units are on standby alert, four hours on, four   
hours off. Break out the cots and clear the gym, We're going to stop Nemesis, if we   
can."

Daley frowned. "That's going to be the trick, isn't it? A dozen police forces   
have tried to stop him, and failed. Why should we be any different?"

"We won't know until we try." Leon yawned. "Better get some sleep. I don't think   
we're going to be getting a lot of it in the next few days."

====================================================

 

Sylia's apartment  
February 11, 2036  
12:43am

The group sitting around Sylia's living room wasn't a happy group.

After Nemesis has left them, the quartet made a mad dash for the Knight Wing.   
Despite last minute pleas from the others, Sylia insisted on piloting the KnightWing,   
alone, back to base. With hasty fair-wells, the others mounted their motorslaves and   
rode off into the rainy night.

The twenty minutes Sylia spent behind the aircrafts controls felt like two hours   
to her. She had to continuously adjust the KnightWing's pitch and speed to keep the   
craft level. The damage from the SAM near miss caused the aircraft to wobble and twist   
like an insane drunk, forcing her to hang onto the controls in a near death grip. She   
wasn't sure, but she believed that only her hardsuit's augmented strength had allowed   
her to keep control at least twice where she normally would have lost it and plowed   
into a building or street. That wasn't something she wanted to think about.

She didn't release her grip on the joystick until after she had landed the Knight  
Wing inside the hanger and shut off the engines. She sat there for another ten minutes,  
regaining her strength. I will never do that again, she promised herself. I'll have to   
look into the possibility of installing a self destruction system in case this happens   
again.

"What are we going to do about Nemesis?" Priss asked, reminding Sylia that it   
was the past she was thinking about. The singer was sitting on the couch, legs under-  
neath her. Her hair was wet again, this time from a hot shower, and she was wrapped   
in a blanket over a thick shirt and pants, a large cup of coffee in her hands.

"I don't know," Sylia replied. She was wearing a heavy bathrobe, and still managed   
to have an air of grace about her. She was sitting in a chair and sipped from her own   
cup of coffee.

"But he must have killed over two hundred people tonight!" said Linna sharply.   
Her choice of clothing was a sweatshirt and sweatpants and she had a towel over her   
head. She was sitting on a couch across from the one Priss was occupying

"He killed members of the Yakuza," said Sylia calmly.

"Who set him up as judge, jury and executioner?"

"Do we have the right to stop him?" Nene asked quietly. She was sitting next   
to Linna. Instead of coffee, she had a cup of coco. 

"What do you mean 'do we have the right?'" Linna asked. "How many more people   
must he kill before we stop him?"

"Nene gave me a data disk that has background on Nemesis," said Sylia, still   
calm. "He's never killed an innocent person before."

"So we wait until he does? How many innocent people were at the nightclub?"

"There weren't any harmless people left in the building when Nemesis attacked   
it," Priss said scowling at the memory. "Someone set off a couple of smoke and stink   
bombs that cleared out the place just before he hit it."

"And he started on the roof and worked his way down," said Sylia. "By the time   
he reached the street, the only people inside were Yakuza, Priss and Leon."

"Don't remind me," Priss said with a shudder.

"Why?" Linna asked. "What did Nemesis do?"

"He killed every Yakuza the with the efficiency of a boomer." she took a deep   
breath. "He must have run out of weapons on his suit, because he was using a Gerlitch   
rifle to take out the Yakuza, each one with a single shot. There's nothing wrong with   
his marksmanship."

"How can you admire what he did?" asked Linna angrily. "He murder those people   
in cold blood!"

"I don't!" Priss snapped back. "And he didn't 'murder' Yakuza, he killed them."

"What's the difference?"

"Priss, Linna," said Sylia sharply, startling the pair with her tone. "Calm   
down. Yelling at each other will not solve the question."

"Sylia's right," said Nene. "Priss, did Nemesis take a shot at either you or   
Leon? When you in the nightclub?"

"No." Priss frowned. "He did recognize Leon though. Called him by name."

"The evidence seems to support that Nemesis has a good intelligence gathering   
system," said Sylia.

"I may have a lead on that line of thought," said Nene.

"Oh?" said Sylia, turning to look at her. "Gathering intelligence by yourself?"

"No!" replied the redhead quickly "It's just Vicki Maoru mentioned that there's   
a new cracker in town asking questions about the security around a couple of Yakuza   
databases. Whoever they are, they called themselves 'Fleet Hermes', and I've put the   
word out that I want to talk to them."

"What for?" Linna asked.

"To warn them off."

"Why?"

"Because Nemesis is upsetting the balance that the gangs have in the city,"   
the ADP officer replied, her face serious. "Until now, the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza   
has been the most powerful criminal group in the city. For the last five years, no   
one has dare to oppose Sato's power. But Nemesis is making the Sleeping Dragon look   
like idiots and some of the other gangs are going to try and take advantage of what   
they see as Sato being weak."

"Which means we could have a gang war," Sylia finished. "While Sato doesn't   
concern me, there are several gangs that will not care if there are innocent people   
between them and their target. In short, a lot of people could die if Nemesis continues   
his attacks."

"So, we have to stop him!" Linna said.

"How do we do that?" Sylia asked cooly. "He is clearly an expert in guerilla   
warfare, and that hardsuit he was wearing when we met him had as much firepower as   
all four of our suits. We know nothing about him, or even if it is a him. We are   
starting with nothing." She looked at each of the others in turn. "We are not dealing   
with a madman, but a intelligent, experienced warrior who strikes only at clearly   
defined targets. He had no reason to kill that last Jager, except to save Nene from   
being killed."

"But we can't allow that to –"

"You're forgetting the other Jagers," said Nene. "He destroyed at least half   
a dozen battlesuits all by himself just minutes before we saw him. I monitored the   
ADP channels as we were making our way here, and Leon found a bunch of the battlesuits.   
Their pilots never had a chance."

Linna opened her mouth to continue arguing, but Sylia said. "We cannot come to   
a decision tonight. I suggest we get some rest and make the determination when were   
less tired and have more facts to work with. Nene, I want a copy of all the police   
reports about tonight as soon as you can."

"Right!"

"Until we have more then what we have now, I refuse to commit to a course of   
action." Sylia looked at Linna. "That may change, once we have more data, but I am   
not going to risk the team on something like this without careful consideration. In   
the meantime, do not do anything about this on your own."

"What about 'Fleet Hermes'?" Nene asked.

"If they contact you, try to lean as much as you can. If this hacker is connected   
to Nemesis, try and get them to back off. If they are willing to listen, explain what   
will happen if Sato is hurt any more." Sylia glanced at the clock. "That's all for the   
night. We'd better get some sleep now. If things do get out of hand, we may not get   
another chance at a good night's rest for weeks."

====================================================

 

Holton Junkyard Co.  
District 5  
February 11, 2036  
12:51am 

Gavin looked at the others around the table. "It could have gone better."

All five were sitting around a table in the underground bunker under the junk-  
yard. The remnants of a hasty meal were scattered across the table, as was paper, pens,   
and several cups of coffee. The air around the table was calm mixed with relief with   
some vestiges of excitement coming from Marie.

"I don't see how," said Smitty. "We managed to eliminate four of Sato's business,   
kill at least two hundred of his goons, and eliminated his Jager unit. What could have   
gone better?"

"The nightclub was crawling with Yakuza," Gavin replied. He winced slightly as   
he shifted in his chair.

Is that where you cracked those ribs?" Vicain asked from the far end of the table.

Gavin nodded. "Where did Sato get those Jager suits from? Marie, didn't you find   
anything about them in Sato's system?"

"Sorry, Gav," his sister said meekly. "I should have thought about the possibility   
when I went into Sato's system. It won't happen again, I promise."

"Don't blame yourself," said Gavin. "I am the one who should have accounted for   
Sato's security plans, and I am the one he should have anticipated his little surprise   
with the Jager battlesuits."

"Did you have any problems with the Knight Sabers?" Vicain asked.

"They weren't too thrilled with me, but I don't think they will try to stop me."

"What happens if Sato hires them to stop us?" asked Smitty. "Their hardsuits   
are almost as good, they know the city better then us, and there's four of them."

"I don't think Sato will hire them," replied Gavin. "Kagemusha indicates that   
the Sabers have some scruples."

"In any case, you didn't do too badly," said Sarge, a thin smile on his face.   
"The latest ADP reports have managed to identify the remains of eight Jager suits so   
far, and a couple of other that are possibles. You managed to severely mangle Sato's   
ability to overwhelm you with technology."

"At least for now." Gavin stretched slightly. "Maria, Kagemusha should have sent   
his latest intel report to the dead-drop email box. Will you check to see if it's there?"

Marie walked over to a computer in the corner of the room and typed a few keys.   
Vicain looked at Gavin. "Who's Kagemusha?"

"He's a source we have inside the ADP," said Sarge.

"Inside the police department?" The professor frowned. "Can you trust him?"

"Yes. He was at San Ramon with us."

"Ah," said Vicain said slowly in understanding. "I didn't realize you kept in   
touch with each other."

"We all do," said Gavin, quietly but firmly. "After what happened, we trust   
very few people outside of the group. Kagemusha is the code name of a guy we use to   
call 'Shadow', because he was so good at not being seen."

"'Shadow Warrior'," said Vicain carefully, translating Kagemusha into English.   
"Who chose it? Him or you?"

"He did," Sarge replied.

"You're not going to tell me who he is, are you?"

Gavin shook his head. "No offence, Professor, but the less people who know   
Kagemusha's real identity, the better it is for everyone."

"It's here!" Maria called out. 

"Print it out and bring it over here," Gavin said.

"Okay, Gav." the soft whirl of a printer started ran for about ten seconds,   
then stopped. Marie walked over to the table, a sheaf of papers in her hands. "I   
think you need to see this."

"What?"

"I glanced at the stuff as it was printed out, and I don't like it." She handed   
the papers to her brother.

Gavin read over the papers quickly. "Damn," he muttered softly.

"What?" asked Smitty.

"Shadow's saying that several of the other criminal outfits are getting ready   
to move against Sato within the next twenty-four hours."

"So?" asked Smitty. "The more problems Sato's has, the less attention he'll be   
able to pay to us."

"Some of those other gangs are as bad as Sato is, maybe even worse," Gavin replied.   
"I don't want any of these groups to quickly step into the vacuum Sato's death will   
leave."

"You're talking about expanding the scope of the strike," said Sarge.

"We may not have a choice. I don't want anyone benefitting from our actions."

"That's going to be tough. We're not set up for that type of operation."

"Can you switch gears?"

"I can try, but we'd better limit our strikes to critical ones only. With the   
city in an uproar, any sudden purchases of weapons and ammo might attract attention."

"Marie?"

Marie looked at her brother, her expression expectant. "Yes, Gav?"

"Can you search for a list of warehouses that have the supplies we need?"

"How quick do you need it?"

"As soon as possible."

Marie bit her lip. "It may take me some time."

"As quickly as you can."

"I'd better get started then." Marie went back to the computer.

Vicain stood up. "I think the best thing we can do right now is get some rest,"   
he said.

"The Professor's right, sir," said Sarge, also standing. "With those ribs, you   
need to rest. Marie can dig out the data, the Hardsuits can wait for a couple of hours   
before we work on them."

"Fine," said Gavin "Four hours down time, then we decide what to do next. Agreed?"

The others nodded. Smitty looked uneasy. "Do you think it'll come to an all-out   
war against everyone in this city?" he asked.

"I hope not," Sarge muttered.

"We may not have any choice," said Gavin.

"But we can't take on the entire city!" said Smitty. "What happens if GENOM   
becomes involved?"

"Then we regroup and reassess our options." He stood. "We've got things to do.   
Let's do them."


	19. Chapter 19

Ju-Ki Fine Arts Store  
District 5  
February 11, 2036  
12:59am

 

From the street, the store looked dark and closed, devoid of any life at this   
time of night. But that was an illusion, because there were people in the store.

The storage room in the back of the store was large and filled with products   
for the showroom floor. But the men sitting at the table in the center of the room   
weren't employees, nor were the men standing in the corners of the room. All the men   
had the look of men use to violence, despite their expensive suits.

Shikichi Sato may have been the head of the largest and most powerful organized   
crime gang in MegaTokyo, but he wasn't the only gang leader. The four men sitting around   
the table were each powerful in their own right, but none of them could even hope to   
match the strength or firepower of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza on their own.

At least not until now.

To find these four men in the same room would have greatly interested the N-  
Police's Organized Crimes Unit, had they known about the meeting. But these men hadn't   
reached their current positions by being stupid. They had slipped away from their homes   
and their places of business without the OCU being the wiser. The store was a neutral   
meeting ground, sometimes used for face-to-face meetings. Now them, and their bodyguards,   
were here to discuss what providence in the form of a vigilante had provided them.

"It looks like our friend Sato is having a bad night," remarked one of the men   
sitting at the table. Jimmy Chee was the head of the Suan-Tou–Fung Triad, now the largest   
triad based in the city. Young, arrogant, and a self-proclaimed 'expert on vice', Chee   
was wearing an expensive blue suit and smoking a large cigar.

"How many men has he lost so far?" asked another crime lord. 

"The body count is over two hundred, and that's expected to go up over the next   
day." Chee puffed deeply on the cigar and blew out a large fog of smoke into the center   
of the table where it slowly dissipated. "Looks like this guy Nemesis knows how to grab   
Sato by the balls, eh?"

The second gang leader gave Chee a look of disgust. "Do you have to smoke that   
damn cigar?"

Chee took the cigar out of his mouth and blew smoke across the table at the   
speaker. "Chill, Adrik," he said cheerfully. "This is a time for celebration. We're   
here to divide up Sato's carcass."

Adrik Smirnovski glared at the Triad leader. Smirnovski was the nominal head of   
several Russian gangs in the city, a position he had held for almost as long as Chee   
and been alive. While Chee was young, wild and flamboyant, Smirnovski was older, more   
controlled in his emotions, and restrained in his dress and actions. Even now, in a   
somber ensemble and wire-rimmed glasses, he looked more like a harried bank CEO then   
a gang leader. But there was a coldness in his eyes that only came from years of   
directing brutality. And Smirnovski was a brutal man.

"You're assuming Sato's going to roll over and die," said Willie Chung, as he   
looked from Chee to Smirnovski and back again. "That is a stupid assumption." Chung   
represented an alliance of Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, and Thai gangs in the city,   
brought together by common interests. In manner and dress, he fell between Chee and   
Smirnovski.

"I must agree," said the last member of the foursome. "The Sleeping Dragon is   
wounded, but they are still dangerous."

"Which is why we must seize this chance!" said Chee, leaning forward, looking   
at the other three. "Nemesis had done more damage to Sato in the last forty-eight hours   
then we or the cops had in the past five years." He held his hand, then clenched it into   
a fist. "This is a chance for us to move in and grab some or all of Sato's business!"

Smirnovski looked at the fourth member of the group. "Iwasaki-san, of all of us,   
you know Sato the best. Is he weak enough to move against?"

Tomasuki Iwasaki looked at the other three. He was the Oyabun of the Red Willow   
Yakuza, long-time rivals of the Sleeping Dragons. "I have waited for a chance to destroy   
Sato for twenty years. I think that time is now."

"So the Red Willow are with us?" asked Chee eagerly.

Iwasaki looked at the younger man cooly. "If the plan is sound, we will take   
part."

Chee smiled. "If we, the largest gangs in the city, cannot take down the Sleeping   
Dragons, then no one can."

"I wouldn't forget Karns," said Chung. "You of all people should remember him."

The triad leader shrugged. "Karns isn't a threat. He will be taken care of in   
time."

"That's what Ronnie Yee thought," said Smirnovski with a frown. "You didn't have   
any problems picking up what was left of the Red Cobras' operations after Skeeter finished   
with them, did you?"

Chee waved a hand in dismissal. "Karns will get what he deserves later on. But   
it's Sato we're here to talk about." he glanced at Smirnovski and Chung. "Are you two   
in?"

"I agree with Iwasaki," replied the Russian. "If the plan is feasible, we will   
support it."

"I need to make a few phone calls," Chung said, standing. "That's going to take   
some time."

The triad leader looked at him. "We don't have a lot of time. There's no telling   
how much longer Nemesis is going to be around." Chung nodded and walked over to a corner,   
his bodyguards following. He pulled out a phone and started dialing.

"What happens if Nemesis decides that the Sleeping Dragon are only the beginning?"   
asked Iwasaki. "If he starts on us, we could end up just like Sato."

"Take on the entire city's underworld?" Chee snorted in disgust. "You're beginning   
to sound like old ladies."

"We are being cautious," Smirnovski replied. "We are willing to risk grabbing a   
piece of Sato's pie, but we're not going to expose ourselves to attack by Nemesis or   
other forces."

"That's fair enough. But we cannot delay. If Nemesis quits or is taken out,   
Sato's going to have time to recover, and our chance will be lost."

"So how do we divide up the spoils?" asked Iwasaki

Chee leaned forward and took the cigar out of his mouth. "I have people cracking   
into Sato's records even as we speak. Once we have a list, we divide up the businesses   
between us. Whoever's territory is closes to the target gets the right of first refusal.   
Any targets that two or more groups want will be decided by chance – a coin flip, deck   
of cards, or a roll of the dice. Fair enough?"

"Concise," said Smirnovski. "It sound fair."

"I think we can agree to that," added Iwasaki.

Chee looked over his shoulder at Chung, who was being animated as he spoke into   
his phone. "I think we can include the gangs Willie represents too."

"How long to get the lists?" asked Smirnovski.

"No more then two hours," replied Chee easily.

"Good." The Russian stood up. "I suggest we meet again in two hours. The Golden   
Stallion, over in Tinsel City."

"I know it," said Chee, his smile fading somewhat. "I didn't realize it was one   
of your places."

"It isn't," Smirnovski replied. "It belongs to one of Mr. Chung's associates."   
He motioned to his bodyguards. "See you in a couple of hours."

 

======================================================

Shikichi Sato's home  
District 4  
February 11, 2036  
12:51am

The air inside the Oyabun's office was tense. The night's disaster had stunned   
them with its violence and suddenness. All twelve of the Jager suits had been destroyed   
in battle, with only a single pilot surviving Nemesis' onslaught. Four business,   
including the Fu-Shui nightclub, were completely destroyed. The number of dead gang   
members was climbing every hour as emergency crews found more Yakuza bodies in the   
smoking rubble. 

The mood outside the room wasn't much better. The grounds of Sato's estate were   
swarming with Yakuza gunmen, while a dozen N-Police cars sat outside the gates, the   
police waiting for the go-ahead to force their way into the compound. Behind them,   
twice as many news vehicles were ready to come as the second wave. The press was   
covering the attacks with same intensity reserved for political scandals and major   
wars, forcing Sato to screen all phone calls. About the only good news was that Satoru   
had finally been released from police custody and was on his way with a first-hand report   
of what happened at the nightclub. 

Sato looked at the other two men in the office with him. He didn't look like it,   
but he was seething. "Is there an explanation for our failure?" he asked Kazuo Honjuji   
in a mild tone.

The so-honbucho bowed his head. "I am at fault, sir," he said. "I underestimated   
Nemesis' skill and intelligence. I am sorry." He reached into his jacket pocket and   
removed something wrapped in a white cloth.

"There is no time for that now!" Sato snapped. "If the police were to enter   
the grounds right now and find you have just committed Yubitsume, we'll not be able   
to get rid of them!"

Honjuji hung his head. "I'm sorry, sir I –"

The Oyabun slammed his hand down on the desk. "This is not the time to fix   
blame!" he snarled. "This Nemesis has threatened our very survival. He has cost us   
more in these last two days then the police and the other gangs have in two decades!   
If we suffer any more losses, we will not be able to protect what we hold now. Even   
now, I have a report that Iwasaki has put his own gangs on alert."

"You fear that he may try something?" asked Norihisa Ichitaro.

"I know he will try something," Sato growled. "He has hated our wealth and power   
for years, but he didn't dare challenge us, not when he knew he didn't have a chance.   
But he senses blood in the water now, and he's moving to take advantage of it. Also,   
Chee and Smirnovski have been sniffing around several of our front companies. I wouldn't   
put it past them to ally themselves with Iwasaki with the sole purpose to finish what   
this Nemesis has started."

"So what are your orders, Sir?" asked Honjuji.

"Order every single gang out onto the street. Let it be known that will give   
a million yen to any person who can give us information that lead to us tracking down   
Nemesis. If we haven't found him by this time tomorrow night, double the reward, and   
keep doubling it every twenty-four hours until he is found."

"Yes sir."

Sato leaned back in his chair. "Activate the combat boomers," he said slowly.   
"We cannot afford to lose any more men, money, or face in this matter."

"Yes sir!" the so-honbucho replied. "Do you have any orders regarding the   
deployment of the boomers?"

"What is our current strength in boomers?"

"We have four BU-12B anti-tank models, four BU-12B air defense models, and a   
dozen other BU-12Bs models. In addition, we have five of the BU-15 Goblins and three   
BU-17 Hellraisers. A pair of BU-96C reconnaissance boomers, fifteen of the BU-55Cs   
and three dozen of the older BU-35Cs complete the inventory."

The Oyabun nodded. "I want the anti-tank and air defense boomers here to guard   
this compound. A 55C and a pair of the 35Cs will be assigned as personal bodyguards   
to each senior member of the organization, with the extra assigned here. I want the   
Goblins, any 12B reconnaissance models we have, and the two 96s to be out and searching   
for Nemesis until daybreak. The other 12s and the Hellraisers will act as our basic   
striking force, augmented by the AT and AD boomers, and men, as needed. If necessary,   
we will use the boomers against Iwasaki, Chee and Smirnovski, or any other group that   
dares to challenge us."

"May I make a further suggestion?" Ichitaro asked. "We could used our stable   
of fighting boomers to help strengthen security at key operation points. There are,   
of course inferior to our other boomers, but they can stiffen the resolve of our men,   
give our other opponents something to think about, and slow down Nemesis long enough   
for us to send overwhelming force."

"Do so," said Soto. "We will not leave any stone unturned on this. Nemesis has   
thrown down the gauntlet. We must show him the error of his ways." The phone on the   
desk buzzed. Sato picked up the receiver. "Yes?...Do they have a warrant?.... Is every-  
thing questionable been removed from sight?.... Good. In that case, let them in." He   
hung up the phone and looked at his lieutenants. "That was the front gate. The police   
have a warrant to search the estate and are demanding entry."

That is serious," said Ichitaro.

Sato looked at his second in command. "Let's not stand here and wait. Ichitaro,   
meet the officers at the front door, escort them here and call our lawyer."

He then looked at his headquarters chief. "Honjuji, you are to activate the plan   
we have just discussed here. Use the secondary communications room to send out the   
orders. Use the highest security level."

"Yes sir! I think we should use the bunker in the south woods for the assembly   
point for the boomers assigned here."

Sato nodded briefly. "Stay in the secondary communications room until the police   
have left. Now, go and perform those tasks."

Both Ichitaro and Honjuji left the office. Sato turned and looked out the window   
that was behind his desk. Even as he did so, he could see the N-police cars race up the   
driveway, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Disgusting.

He turned away and folded his hands in his desk. Nemesis was proving to be an   
opponent of skill and power. It was clear that the Sleeping Dragon was now fighting   
for its life, a fight Sato had no intension of losing. Nemesis was a dangerous opponent,   
but he was only one man in a land and culture not his own. While San Angeles was American,   
this was Japan. This was Sato's homeland, his land of birth. His family had been Yakuza  
for generations, and before that, Samurai. He wouldn't roll over and die for the other   
gangs in the city that waited for his downfall, why should this ketou be any different?

No, Kousotsu, he thought. Your vengeance ends here. I cannot let you win. I will   
not let you win. On the blood of my ancestor, I swear this!

=====================================================

 

ADP Headquarters  
February 11, 2036  
2:11am

A hand shook Leon awake.

As he didn't know when he was going to get another chance as long as Nemesis   
was in town, he'd taken the couch in one of the waiting rooms to try and get some   
sleep. But it looked like he wasn't going to get any more right now.

"What?" the ADP Inspector muttered, struggling to open his eyes.

"You better get up," said Daley.

"Why," Leon muttered, looking up at his partner through half-closed lids, "did   
Godzilla finally show up?"

"No, but the pictures Gamble promised us did."

Leon sat up. "That was fast."

"He seemed to be motivated." Daley had a couple of folders in his hand. He opened   
one and pulled out several photos and handed them to his partner. "This guy look familiar?"

As he wiped the sleep from his eyes, Leon took the photos from his partner and   
looked at them. He gazed at the first one for several seconds, then went onto the next,   
then the next. As he looked at the man in every photo, his mind drifted back to several   
hours ago....

As he and Priss came abreast of the short corridor leading to the bathroom, a   
short, broad-shouldered man with a graying crewcut rapidly emerged from the corridor   
and plowed right into both of them. The only thing that saved Priss from being knocked   
down was his grip on her arm. The man mouthed "Excuse me," and headed for the front   
door.

"Watch where you're going!" he had shouted at the retreating man. Muttering to   
himself, he'd quickly checked for his wallet and gun, and relaxed as he determined that   
he still had both.

A short, broad-shouldered man with a graying crewcut rapidly emerged from the   
corridor....

"This is the guy I bumped into at the nightclub," said Leon, looking up at his   
partner.

"Your sure?"

"Positive."

"Looks like a long shot finally paid off. Assuming he had anything to do with   
the attack on the nightclub."

"Remember the explosions in the bathroom that drove all the civilians out? That   
where this guy was coming from when he bumped into me and Priss. He may not be Nemesis,   
but I'd bet a month's pay this guy is working with him." He handed the photos back to   
Daley. "Let's see if we can get a match with US military records on this guy. Gamble   
said this guy acted and sounded like an American military type."

"You're assuming that this guy is really an American," said Daley, replacing the   
photos inside the folder.

"It fits with what else we know about Nemesis. All his targets before this have   
been in the continental United States. Our friend in the hardsuit clearly has military   
training, probably Special Forces. It stands to reason that the people he'd trust the   
most are people he served with."

"Other SpecFor types," replied Daley. "This guy must be Nemesis' point man, buying   
supplies and arranging things."

"This is the first time there's been any real evidence of there being more then   
one person behind Nemesis. There's been speculation, but no hard proof until now."

"Speaking of SpecFor, I think now know why Nemesis is here." Daley opened the   
other folder and pulled out several sheets of paper and handed them to Leon. "I have   
a friend in the San Angles police, and he passed these onto me. I got them five minutes   
before I got the pictures."

Leon took them and glanced over them. They showed a young woman, killed in a   
violent manner. "Who is she?"

"She was Josie Ng, one of San Angles' top investigative reporters. She was   
investigating Sleeping Dragon Yakuza connections to several San Angles Councilpersons   
when the SAPD dragged her out of San Fran Bay. Whoever killed her was a sadistic Son   
of a Bitch."

"Any clue that the Sleeping Dragons were behind it?"

"Nothing the law could pin on them. The head of the San Angles branch of the   
Sleeping Dragon was one of the new breed of Yakuza – screw the old code of honor,   
grab everything you can, and to hell with the old ways. He was feeling the heat from   
Ng's investigation, and the SAPD knows this guy ordered the hit, probably without   
Sato's knowledge or permission."

"What's the connection?" Leon asked as he stood up and stretched.

"Less then a week after Ng's body was recovered, Nemesis showed up."

"Coincidence?"

Daley shrugged. "I don't think so. Did you read over those reports on Nemesis   
that Nene pulled together?"

"Mostly."

"I read them all, and there's an interesting shift in our friend's operations   
against the Sleeping Dragon that isn't there with the other operations."

"I need coffee," Leon mumbled as he headed to the door. "What shift?"

The red-headed Inspector followed. "We know Nemesis is ruthless, but his   
operations against the West Coast arm of the Sleeping Dragons were downright savage.   
Two days before the first strike, he phoned the SAPD and told them to get every   
single undercover officer inside the Yakuza out of the way because he wasn't going   
to be held responsible for their deaths."

"And they did that?"

"Not until Nemesis demolished an entire ten story building owned by Sato that   
hosted a white slavery operation in the basement. He called the SAPD again, this time   
with a list of the undercover officers, and told them the same thing the first time   
he called. The chief didn't need a third time."

"That was considerate of him."

"That's just the start. Nemesis usually doesn't leave many wounded or living   
criminals in his wake to begin with, but this time, he didn't leave a single Yakuza   
member alive."

They were out in the corridor now, walking towards the squad room. "He killed   
every single member of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza in San Angles?" Leon asked, looking   
at his partner.

Daley nodded. "Our boy was very through in his destruction this time. Everything   
Sato owned in the city was razed to the ground. He made it a point of executing even   
the wounded Yakuza. I would say this was personal this time."

"What about the head of the operation? Did Nemesis get him too?"

"Oh, yah. Remember what happened to the head of the Red Cobras? Triple the damage,   
and you'll come close to what Nemesis did to the guy."

Leon winced. It had been easier to count the number of Ronnie Yee's bones that   
hadn't been broken than the ones that were. Everyone in the city knew it had been Skeeter   
Karns, but there was no way to prove it in a court of law. "That does sound like he's   
pissed."

"Here's the kicker, the thing that might tie San Angles in with your crew-cut   
friend."

They entered the squad room. Despite the lateness of the hour, the room was   
packed with ADP troopers and detectives. The noise level made it impossible to continue   
the conversation, and the red-head didn't want to shout out his information in public.   
So, he waited until Leon grabbed a cup coffee that had earned the nickname 'ADP fuel'   
for its strength, then pointed towards an interrogation room.

They reached the room, and Leon closed the door behind them, shutting out most   
of the sounds from the squad room. "What's the kicker?"

"Josie Ng had a younger brother by the name of Jackson Ng," Daley replied. "Was   
in the military until about four years ago, when he was given a medical discharge. He   
was wounded in the line of duty someplace in South America, missing most of both legs.   
Get this, I managed to find out that this guy was in SpecFor."

"Bingo!" said Leon. "Our link."

"Like you said, the people these guys trust the most are people they served   
with."

"Makes sense. Ng wants revenge for his sister, but he can't take on the entire   
Yakuza by himself. But he knows Nemesis can, and he knows who Nemesis is. So, he calls   
his friend and explains what has happened, and –"

"Sato is on the wrong end of a Nemesis strike," Daley finished. "Makes sense."

"Where is Jackson Ng?"

"No one knows. He vanished the same night Nemesis started his war with Sato."

"He's probably in hiding." Leon drained half the cup and looked at him. "When   
is Nene due in?"

"About her regular time. Eight o'clock. Why?"

"We need her to do a bit of creative hacking."

"Into what?"

"The United States Army Special Forces computer database."

Daley frowned. "That's not a good idea."

"We need to find out who Ng served with or knew. You know the SpecFor people are   
not going to give us the time of day. They're a closed book unless you're one of theirs."

"If they find out we've been cracking into their files, we'll be lucky just to   
be fired. They are not people to be messed around with."

"Neither am I." Leon finished the coffee. "Check our soldier friend's image with   
the database over at Border Police HQ. Maybe he came in the front door instead of sneaking   
in the back. If he did, they'll be a record of him."

"Do you want us to release the image to the public and other police agencies?"

"Not yet. Soto and his boy are looking for Nemesis, and they have better street   
sources then we do. Sato will be looking for this guy five minutes after he gets a copy   
of the pictures. If anyone's going to get to Nemesis first, its going to be us."

"Now that's a comforting thought," Daley muttered.


	20. Chapter 20

Holton Junkyard Co.  
District 5  
February 11, 2036   
2:39am

Maria Belasko was a genius.

At an age that should have been devoted to schoolwork, boyfriends and dreaming   
about her first kiss, Maria's attention was focused on networks, bytes, and avoiding   
system security in cyberspace. She didn't miss the life of a normal teenage girl – what   
she was doing was more important. She was helping her brother make the world a safer   
place. She didn't question Gavin's methods, not after seeing both their parents die in   
a hail of bullets four years before. 

She blinked, then stretched and yawned. She had just made another run into the   
Sleeping Dragon Yakuza's private database, with some success. Despite everything that   
had happened, no one inside the gang had gotten around to securing the database from   
her well-planned intrusions. Time to take a break.

She stood and walked over to the kitchen area of the base. She made herself a   
peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich, poured a glass of milk, and sat down. She ate slowly,   
her mind wandering back to the start of all of this all – the birth of Nemesis....

It had been over four years ago. They had all been in a restaurant in Mega New   
York were celebrating Gavin's discharge from the Army. Maria had noticed that night   
there had been some tension between Gavin and their father, but there had always been   
tension between the two. Both were strong-willed men who didn't like to back down over   
anything. The result was quarrels that pitted will against will as both men dug in and   
continued on. It was frequently Maria and her mother that had to interceded before the   
arguments came to blows.

Maria had read the police report of the incident, but the words beared little   
resemblance to the actual events as she had lived through. Also in the restaurant at   
the time was one of the city's leading drug kingpins. Maria vaguely remembered the man,   
but her attention had been more focused on her family then the people around her. She   
never saw the trio of men who walked into the restaurant, draw submachine guns from   
under their coats and open fire, spraying the room with bullets.

The kingpin had died, as well as most of his bodyguards. Seventeen innocent   
people also died in the hail of bullets, including both senior Belaskos. Neither one   
had a chance. Maria and her brother only survived because his combat reflexes were   
still sharp, and he had dropped a scant second before the thugs had opened fire, pulling   
her down with him. Their father had tried to do the same thing with their mother, but   
they were both hit before they could reach the floor. The thugs had gotten away clean.

She could still remember the look Gavin had worn when their parents were buried.   
It was one of cold fury, the type of look she knew well. The look that said that someone   
was going to pay for this. And if there was someone who could make these thugs pay it   
was Gavin Belasko, former Captain, US Army Special Forces.

And he had. Over a period of weeks, he'd moved through the city's underground,   
picking up the hard intelligence on the people behind the attack. He not only get the   
names of the men who killed his parents, he soon found out that things were worse then   
he had thought. The man behind this attack was a man by the name of Bruns Ivanov, known   
around the city as the Drug Lord, and was part of a continuing war. A war to control   
the city's drug trade, and everyone in the city, innocent or not, was fair game. In   
Gavin's eyes, it was time to change the rules.

Two months after the death of the Belaskos, one of the three triggermen in the   
restaurant attack was found in an alley with two bullets in his brain. A sign was found   
hung around the neck. 'JUDGEMENT IS COMING,' it had read in neat block letters, and it   
had for this man in a quick and brutal manner. A week later, the second assassin was   
either thrown and jumped off a twentieth floor balcony. A card with the word NEMESIS,   
printed in the same block letters as the sign on the first body, was found in the room.   
The Press called this unknown killer, 'Nemesis'

The third man in the attack was found two weeks later, a single bullet between   
the eyes and a small card that said, "JUDGEMENT IS HERE."

To say that Ivanov reacted badly was putting it mildly. Overnight, there was a   
twenty-five thousand dollar reward for the head of this Nemesis. Nemesis had responded   
by destroying two of the gang's drug labs and killing twenty members. The reward went   
up to fifty thousand dollars, and Nemesis took out another three targets, adding another   
twenty-three criminal to his kill totals. The police tried to interfere, only to find   
themselves shut out of the war by both sides. The gang had too many city officials in   
their pockets to allow the Police into the matter, while Nemesis was an unknown in a   
city of fifteen million.

It had only taken Maria ten minutes to figure out it was Gavin who was behind the   
attacks on the gangs. Edmond Belasko may have been a stubborn man, but he's help raise   
two children who did not shirk their duty. As far as Gavin was concerned, the destruction   
of the gang who had killed his parents was his duty.

And it was Maria's duty to help her brother to complete his mission.

She had discovered an almost magical ability with computers when she was six,   
and she had spent the last seven years honing her skills, up to and including cracking  
databases. She had never been serious about using her skills to systematically rob data-  
bases, but she had no choice. Gavin was going to need every single bit of intelligence   
he could get, and she could help.

And she had done so. She had located the drug lord's database, slipped past its   
out-of-data firewall and wrung it dry of all data before she left, all without leaving   
a trace. She then checked the MNYPD's data base for evidence to Nemesis' identity, and   
made sure to eliminate anything in the data files that could lead them to Gavin

When she presented the data to her brother, he'd taken a long look at her and   
told her this wasn't her fight. She had been more forceful in her contention that this   
was as much her fight as Gavin's. She couldn't fight them like Gavin could, but she   
could do more with a few keystrokes then a full squad of soldiers could. After an   
argument, he had accepted her as part of the team.

Armed with the complete database, Nemesis had stepped up his attack. The attacks   
became worse and worse as Gavin continued to wage a guerilla-style was against the Drug   
Lord. One of Ivanov's senior lieutenants was killed by a sniper, another when his car   
exploded in his private parking lot. A couple of business used by the gang to launder   
money were destroyed, and huge amounts of money went missing.

While Gavin continued his one-man war, Maria started leaking data she collected   
to both the police and the press. Names of crooked cops, lawyers, judges, and politicians   
found their way to certain people in the press and police department, with enough evidence   
to start investigations. This had the result of blinding and crippling the Drug Lord's   
influence, forcing him to try and flee the county late one night.

He never made the airport.

The police found the remains of Ivanov's armored limo and the two escort cars   
on the freeway going towards the airport early in the morning. It was only after the   
US Army reported the theft of a fully-armed Apache III helicopter gunship the day before   
did the police discover how Nemesis had managed to wipe out three cars, twenty-three   
heavily armed gang members, and the Drug Lord himself. In addition, the private jet   
that had been waiting for the gang leader had been destroyed on the ground that same   
night by a missile-firing helicopter. The Apache was then later recovered, it's ammo   
load completely exhausted in the assault on the gang's escape column. Maria had made   
sure there was no mention of Gavin's helicopter piloting skills in his military records

For a while, Maria had thought that would be it, that since their parents had   
been avenged. But Gavin retain that look of cold fury after the death of Ivanov. He   
continued to prowl the streets at night, often coming home bruised and sometimes bloody.   
The number of muggings and other serious crimes dropped significantly in the city during   
this time, with a corresponding rise in the number of dead thugs, but it wasn't enough   
for Gavin.

After a particularly nasty fight with a trio of skinheads, Maria asked her brother   
why he was doing this. Because it is right, he had told her, Because these people under-  
stand only force. You cannot appease them, bargain with them, or appeal to their better   
nature. They are jackals, thinking they are beyond the laws of civilization. It is more   
then men like Ivanov. It is the drug dealers, the loan sharks, the men who kill others   
for money or ideology, and the ones who profit from other people's misery.

But it is even more then the organized crime cartels. It is the terrorist groups   
that make their political points in innocent blood, the sole predators who steal innocence   
from those who needed it the most, and the ones who inflict pain just for the pleasure   
of hurting someone else. There are also those who put money and power above their own   
humanity, think of themselves as being above the law because they have the money. They   
are all cancers on the soul of man, cancers that has been allowed to long to fester. I   
defended this county as a soldier, and I cannot walk away, cannot sit idly by and watch   
these people pull us down into destruction.

But can't the police do this? Maria had asked him.

The police and government are bound by laws, but these criminals aren't. Those   
these animals cannot corrupt, they kill. They manipulate the laws to their advantage,   
shield themselves behind high-priced lawyers, and fell safe as the authorities tries   
to discover enough evidence to convict them. No more! They need to learn that their   
days of safety are numbered.

But you're only one person! Maria had then shouted at him.

But I can make a difference, he had told her. One man, operating outside the law,  
can fight these groups. I can attack these people without being bound by the rules that   
hamper the police and other law enforcement. I can hit them where it will hurt. Their   
illegal money-making business, their structure, their people. I can put fear into them,   
I can make them look over their shoulder, I can repay them back some of the pain and   
terror that they have caused. I can be the vengeance of those who cannot speak up. I can   
be their Nemesis.

Like Mom and Dad's? Maria had asked him softly.

Yes.

Then, let me help.

The rest of that argument was nothing compared to the first argument. Absolutely   
not! He had told her. This is my fight, not yours!

Maria had been unmoving in her decisions. This is my fight also, she had replied.   
You need my help, I can get inside these gang's networks and discover the best places   
for you to hit. I can help muddy the waters by confusing any police investigations. I   
can feed the police information about the gangs to help them pick up what's left after   
you've finished. You need me.

It had taken several hours, but Maria had managed to wear her brother down until   
he'd agreed to her help. Over the next several months, both Belaskos prepared for the   
new war they would be waging. Gavin began buying weapons and ammo, arranging safehouses,   
and training himself back to the level he'd been at in the army and beyond. Maria hacked   
into different networks, collecting and collating data, building up a database of the   
most dangerous crime cartels in the country. Police databases were the first stop, to   
get the basics on the mobs. The next step were the databases of businesses own by the   
gangs, then the gang's private databases.

It soon became clear to Maria that she got a rush out of cracking networks. It   
was a challenge, a puzzle that needed to be solved., and she reveled in it. She found   
it to be a thrill to slip into a network, collect all the important data, then slip   
away without leaving a trace. She was never malicious or destructive in her forays,   
preferring stealth over brute force. 

It was just as they were getting ready to start this new war did fate drop the   
largest piece of Nemesis, in the form of Matthew 'Sarge' Hemmer, into their laps. Sarge   
had served under Gavin in the Army and had gotten out about the same time. A twenty-year   
man, Sarge's skills were in intelligence and reconnaissance.

He'd gone to work for a small weapons company called HiGuard as an expert   
advisor, and things had gone well for a while. But them someone had tried to take   
over the company – a hostile takeover that went far beyond the normal buying of   
company stock and buyout offers. After HiGuard's CEO and CFO were killed in a car   
'accident', Hemmer went underground and started his own investigation into the people   
who were behind the takeover. What he found chilled him. The man behind the takeover   
was Yvon Heuse, one of the world's top arms dealers, an amoral businessman who only   
cared that his customers had the cash for his wares. He was after HiGuard because of   
one of the new weapons that was in development with the company– a battlesuit that   
was on the cutting edge of technology. Only one man at HiGuard had the necessary   
knowledge to construct the battlesuit, a Professor Roland Vicain, who had disappeared   
after the death of the company's executives. Needing backup, Hemmer contacted Gavin   
and explained the situation. It took Gavin only seconds to agree to help.

They found the professor in a safehouse on the outskirts of the city. Given a   
choice of escaping or being captured and forced to build the suit for Heuse, Vicain   
sided with the two ex-soldiers. They managed to escape out the back door of the safe-  
house as a team of Heuse's men came through the front. After a rough chase, Gavin and   
the others managed to get away. Now a hunted man, Vicain threw in with Gavin, offering   
to build the battlesuit for Gavin's war. Sarge, happy to be reunited with his former   
CO, also sided with Gavin.

It took two months to build the suit. During that time, Sarge recruited another   
former member of Gavin's unit. Harland 'Smitty' Smith was an armorer, well versed in   
the design, building, repairing, and maintenance of weapon systems. With his help, the   
weapons system for the battlesuit were smoothly integrated with the suit's control   
systems.

All this time, Heuse's men continued to search for Vicain. After buying the   
company from the survivors, the arms dealer was thrown into anger when he discovered   
that there was nothing left in the company's database on the battlesuit's design. Now   
realizing that his only choice was to hunt down Vicain, Heuse started a massive manhunt.   
The search was unsuccessful, as the small group kept moving, staying one step ahead of   
the hunt. Disgusted at the lack of progress, Heuse went back to Miami, his base of   
operations.

With the battlesuit now ready, it was decided by Gavin and the others to go after   
Heuse first. So, the new Nemesis began his war on the arms dealer's home turf. With   
Maria's hacking skills, Sarge's intelligence gathering. Vicain and Smitty's technical   
expertise, and Gavin's tactical mind, Heuse's empire blew apart in four days. Heuse's   
only glimpse of the battlesuit that he'd tried to grab for himself was when Nemesis   
stormed the arms dealer's fortified estate after destroying most of Heuse's organization.   
The arms dealer didn't survive long enough for a second look....

In the past four years, the team had faced drug smugglers, white slavers, radical   
separatists, religious fanatics, and criminals cartels. It didn't take long for the   
team to fall into a rhythm at the beginning of each campaign. Each time, the enemy's   
computers had been hacked, locations of its businesses scouted, and its weaknesses   
targeted. Then, in a space of several days, Nemesis would ravage the gang's structure,  
destroying its cohesion and killing anyone who could rally the remainder. It had been   
Maria's idea to send the local police force a packet of evidence to finish the job that   
Gavin started. Then they would move onto a new campaign.

Maria sighed. Even after all this time, Gavin didn't like the fact she was with   
them, but where else could she go? There was no one who could take her, and Gavin wasn't   
about to let her live on her own, even if he didn't want her involved with his war. And   
since she was with them, she had to do something to earn her keep.

She stood, went and made another peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich, poured herself   
another glass of milk, and went back to the table. Gavin didn't understand. He was a   
soldier, a warrior who had been trained to fight for first his country, now for his   
belief in a better tomorrow. Sarge and Smitty were the same way – all of them were   
veterans in an activity Maria couldn't hope to compete in.

Maria was a warrior of a different sort. Her battlefields were silicon and   
electricity, her weapons programs and her mind, her gains measured in strings of 1   
and 0's, her enemies other programs and security people tasked with protecting the   
databases. As Gavin and the others knew and practiced their craft in the warzone,   
Maria did the same in her field. Gavin may be the one who walked into the firestorm   
of war, but it was Maria who provided the map to guide him in and out.

She finished the rest of the sandwich as she walked back to her computer. As she   
sat down, she glanced at her watch. Time to check my E-mail, she thought. She called   
up her E-mail program and scanned the list of messages waiting for her. A few were   
junk Emails, while most of the others were friendly 'hello's' from Crackers she knew,   
though only through the computer. One message title caught her eye. Curious, she clicked   
on it.

Subject: Looking For Fleet Hermes  
From: Yacker44455@Megnanet.com  
To: WackerL@Lacar.net, 753665589@MegaTokyo.net,

PhiloNew@Arca.org.jp, Moi45@Koi.com, NemHelp@backwater.net,

Trboweasel@ghyphon.com, RHH@dawble.adp.gov.jp, ArbyDuck@kospi.net.kr

Rwiseman@Orcakon.com, QueenElectric@hideaway.com

 

Do any of you know Fleet Hermes in RL? If you do, could you 

pass along the word that RHH wants to talk to them? She's 

promised that it's a straight meet.

 

Thanks,

Yacker

 

Maria frowned. Who was RHH? She looked at the list of addresses, and one of   
them stood out: RHH@dawble.adp.gov.jp

ADP? What the hell? She looked at the message again. Yacker was one of the better   
hackers in the city, as was most of these people on the list. ADP didn't handle computer   
crimes unless it had something to do with boomers.

Maria reread the message yet again. She's promised that it's a straight meet.   
That meant that 'RHH' was a female..... Did that mean that 'RHH' was a member of the   
ADP?

She saved off a copy of the email and switched over to cracking mode. I need to   
try and find the 'RHH' before I do anything else, she thought. Now where to start?

First, let's see if the ADP has a server 'dawble'. She called up the layout for   
the ADP system and looked at it. There was no server 'dawble' listed. Unless 'dawble'   
is a virtual server that bounces any emails to another location.....

That would make sense. Use the ADP's computer email system to route messages to   
another location would make tracking difficult but not impossible. RHH must either be   
real sure of herself, assuming she was a she, or very clever. After a moment, she   
considered the latter. If Yakker didn't think RHH was on the up and up, they wouldn't   
have posted the message.

She continued searching for 'dawble' on the ADP system, for another half hour   
before she shook her head in disgust.This isn't working.... She sighed then shut down   
the machine. I need to do this search in VR.

She stood, went over to another computer and turned it on. Unlike her other   
computer, this one was set up for use in Virtual Reality. As the computer was warming   
up, she slipped on a pair of VR gloves and goggles. Let's see if I can find the virtual   
server first, then I can trace where it's sending RHH's email.

She tapped in a sequence of commands, then slipped the goggles over her eyes.   
There was a moment of disorientation, but it cleared quickly. In the guise of a routine  
maintenance program, she slipped into the ADP network through a small hole she had   
created in the firewall.

After ten minutes of fruitless searching, she exited the system and lifted the   
goggles. Whoever RHH is, she thought, giving the unknown hacker grudging credit, they   
are very good. Wherever this 'dawble' is, it's well hidden in that system. I wonder   
how they managed to hide it from the ADP security people?

She yawned and stretched, then glanced at her watch. I'll send this RHH an email,   
then follow the E-mail to wherever this 'dawble' is, and then....

And then what? What would she say in the message? Would a dummy message reach   
RHH, or would it get shuttled off into an electronic backwater?

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. Damn it! Too many questions, and I'm   
too tired to think straight. Sleep first, then I'll think about what to do next.

She shut down the computer, stood up, and went to the small area that was her   
sleeping area. She laid down on the military-surplus cot and pulled the blankets up to   
her chin. It would be nice to talk to someone new, was the last thought she had before   
sleep claimed her.

========================================================

 

District 7  
February 11, 2036  
9:23am

Priss guided the motorcycle into a parking space near the orphanage's main   
entrance. She shut off the engine after putting down the kickstand, removed her helmet   
and looked around.

The orphanage had the same look of slight decay it had when Priss was first sent   
here - was it only ten years ago? The new wing retained a clean look that seemed at   
odds with the rest of the building. But since its construction, it had absorbed the   
air of helplessness that hung around the building like a ghastly wreath. 

Priss looked up at the off-white building and again felt the sadness and anger   
from that time not so long ago. The place hadn't changed much since she had run away,   
and probably never would. It was a legacy of the Second Kanto Earthquake, a place to   
house and teach the orphans who had nowhere else to go after that disaster. Despite   
their best efforts, the staff couldn't replace the love and support of a family. It   
was a cold place, a place that held no good memories for her. 

The only reason why she came down here once a week was Sho, the son of a friend   
who had died due to the greed of GENOM. The Sabers had taken a measure of revenge against   
the mega-corporation, resulting in the death of Brian J. Mason, but that didn't give   
Sho back his mother. Priss tried to give the boy someone he could talk to, but at best,   
she could act as an older sister. There were too many obstacles for her to adopt the boy   
herself, so both had to settle for these weekly visits.

She could hear children shouting and laughing in the distance, but there was no   
one else in sight. She got off the cycle slowly, hung her helmet on the handlebars, and   
walked up the stairs to the front entrance. It was only when she was half way up the   
stairs that Priss saw the person waiting at the top of the stairs.

Mrs. Herohata watched Priss climb the rest of the staircase. She was maybe fifteen   
years older then Priss, slightly taller and thinner then the singer, with short dark   
hair. She slowly placed the large round glasses so they balanced on the edge of her   
nose and stared down at Priss.

Priss glared back up at her. "You haven't changed much, have you?"

"Good Morning, Miss Asgiri," replied Herohata evenly. "Are you here to see Sho?"

"You know I am." Priss eyes narrowed. "Is there something wrong? Is Sho all right?"

"Sho is fine - you can see him after we talk. However, I wanted to talk to you   
about a situation that has come up."

"What sort of situation?"

"We'd better talk in my office." She lead Priss inside.

The entrance was the same dull and lifeless, steel and concrete, hall that had   
been here before Priss first came in and would likely be the same after she passed on.  
Their footsteps rang in the enclosed space, the echo sounding hollow and staid. The air   
of impotence was stronger in here, reminding Priss of the main reason she had 'escape'   
this place before it could sink into her. The fact that she had left with little attempt   
by the orphanage's staff to bring her back told her she had made the right decision.

The office hadn't changed much since the last time Priss had been in it. The paint   
on the walls was new, but the desk was the same as she remembered it, a wooden monster   
that had outlasted the last six directors of the Orphanage and an unknown number of   
bureaucrats before that. The chair and computer looked worn, but serviceable.

Herohata waved Priss to a chair, and claimed the one behind the desk. She leaned   
back and looked at the singer. "You and I have had our differences in the past," she   
said, steepling her fingers and placing them under her chain. "But, to the best of my   
knowledge, you have never lied to me. Is that a fair statement?" 

"You know it is," grumbled Priss. "What's going on?"

Herohata leaned forward and opened a drawer on the right-hand side of the desk.   
She pulled out a small duffle bag and causally placed it on the desk. "This was handed   
to one of our administrators this morning." 

"What's in it?"

"See for yourself."

Priss opened the bag slowly, not certain of what the bag held. It took her several   
seconds to realize the bundles in the bag were made up of money. Her eyes widened slightly   
as she reached in, pulled out a bundle and gazed at it. She caught the slight taint of   
smoke as she did so and she frowned. "It looks real," she said slowly, with a frown.

"It is real," replied Herohata. "We haven't counted it yet, but our best guess   
is there's about a million yen in there."

Priss let out a low whistle, and carefully dropped the bundle back into the duffle   
bag before handing it back to the administrator. "That is a lot of cash."

Herohata frowned "I know. I have already spoken to Mr. Karns, and he tells me   
that it did not come from any of his people."

Priss nodded, remembering that Mr. Karns was 'Skeeter', the largest independent   
gang leader in the city and the self-appointed patron saint of the orphanage. "If   
Skeeter didn't send the money, who did?"

"I have no idea." Herohata returned the duffle bag to the drawer, locked it, and   
leaned back in her chair. "I won't lie to you. We could use the money – the city is   
threatening to cut funding again, and Mr. Karns is doing the best that he can. But   
unless I know who this money is from, I can't use it."

"You think the Yakuza might be behind this?"

"Yes, and that scares me. It's hard enough to keep the kids here from becoming   
hellions, but if the Yakuza are behind this, they would see this gift as a wedge to   
come in here and recruit. I don't want them in here, but if they come in force, I don't   
know if I can stop them."

"Skeeter won't stand for it."

"Mr. Karns may not be able to stop them."

Priss snorted. "Skeeter came from this place, as did half his lieutenants.   
They've bent over backwards to make sure you and the staff can do your job and give   
these kids a home, despite what those pointed-headed idiots down at the city hall   
decide what to cut from your budget. Any child who shows they're ready to learn, and   
Skeeter will make sure they get a shot at college. And most of those who make it turn   
around and came back here to help others. Take it from me, if any Yakuza gang tried   
to recruit from this place, it would be the last thing they ever did."

The administrator nodded slowly. "I know Mr. Karns would not let us down, but I   
had to hear it from someone else."

"Was there any sort of note with the duffle bag?"

Herohata nodded. "There was a note, but I forgot about it." She opened the drawer   
in front of her and reached in. She handed Priss a folded sheet of white paper. The   
singer opened up the sheet and scanned the contents.

The note was in English, short and to the point:

 

Use this money for better reasons then it was originally intended for.

N 

 

Priss frowned. "It doesn't sound like a Yakuza note."

"It doesn't."  
"What did this guy look like? The one that delivered this?" she pointed at the   
bag full of money.

The administrator sighed. "All we know is that a man on a motorcycle stopped   
one of the junior administrators who was on her way into work, asked her if she worked   
here, then gave her the bag and asked her to delivered it to me. She did so, and I   
found that. The man never took off his helmet, and he had a mirrored visor that he   
kept down."

"How do you know this person was a he?"

"Because the girl in question is a bit guy crazy. She's always rating men by   
how they compare to her 'old Senpai'. If there is one thing she's sure of, is that   
it was a man on that motorcycle."

"What do you want me to do?" Priss asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"I want you to ask around quietly and see if you can find out anything about   
the people who left this money with us."

"And suppose they don't want to be found out?"

"I won't ask you to dig out the truth, just see if the orphanage can accept   
this money in good faith. If it's given in the sprit of real charity, then I can rest   
easy. If it's a wedge to recruitment by the gangs, then --"

"I don't think it's the Yakuza," interrupted Priss. "Or any of the other gangs."

Herohata frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"Because Shikichi Sato is too busy getting his ass handed to him by some American   
in power armor. He's too worried about hanging on to what he has now."

"The news reports said there have been clashes between rival gangs in the last   
couple of days."

"Don't believe them," said Priss, leaning forward in her chair. "Some hardass   
calling himself Nemesis has been going through Sato's goons like rice through a duck."

"How do you know?" Herohata asked.

Priss told her the basics of what had happened the night before, only modifying   
her reasons for going into the ruined apartment complex, and omitting everything that   
had happened after her first encounter with Nemesis in there. "So, I managed to stumble   
out of the complex before the ADP surrounded the block and hung around only long enough   
to see and hear a lot of fighting. That's all I know." 

The director nodded and picked up a newspaper that was on her desk. She gave it   
to Priss. "You mean this?"

Priss looked at the headline. It was in black bold print, and read, 'WAR IN THE   
STREETS!' The article itself went on to describe the events of last evening in terse   
language, as if the writer was angry at what had happened. The number of dead was well   
over two hundred and fifty now, with more expected to be found after the ruins had been  
throughly searched. Both the ADP and the N-Police come under criticism in the story for   
not stopping the attacks. Only in passing did the article noted that all the dead that   
had been found so far were know or suspected Yakuza members. There was no mention of   
the Jagers or the Knight Sabers, which wasn't surprising. The newspaper was one of   
GENOM's.

"That's about what happened," Priss said, handing the newspaper back to Herohata.

The director took the newspaper and placed it on her desk. "Will you help?" she   
asked.

"I'll ask around," Priss replied, "But if Skeeter can't find out, why should I   
have better luck?"

"That's all I can ask for." She stood. "I'll take you to Sho. He's been looking   
forward to seeing you again."

Priss stood up also. "How's he doing?"

"He's coping. He's doing well at school and he's making a few friends, but he   
still misses his mother."

"So do I. She was one of the few friends I had." Priss followed Herohata to the   
door of the office. "If I could adopt him, I'd do it in a heartbeat, but with my life –"

"I know." Herohata looked uncomfortable. "If it was just up to me, I would take   
the chance and let you adopt him, but my hands are tied. If it's any comfort, Mr. Karns   
has begun to take an interest in him."

"Well, if Skeeter is interested, then Sho's in good hands."

"I certainly hope so. The poor boy could use the help."

"I wish I could be more of a help."

The director smiled. "Believe it or not, Miss Asgiri, you are a help. You remind   
Sho that he isn't alone and forgotten." She opened the door. "Let's go see him."

 

========================================================

ADP Headquarters  
February 11, 2036  
9:29am

Leon looked out over the packed conference room. "Everybody here?" he asked.

There were no snappy comebacks from any of the assembled officers – they were   
all either too tired or too worried to make the effort. There were well over a dozen   
people in the room, a mix of detachment commanders, ADP investigations members, and   
support people. In addition, Daley and Ko were seated at the table closest to where   
Leon was standing. Cups of coffee were highly visible around the table, as was parts   
of danishes, donuts, and other ready to eat breakfast meals. There was no smell of   
tobacco, as the Chief had instituted a 'no smoking' policy inside the ADP building.

After allowing five seconds for the non existent comments, Leon looked at Daley.   
"What's the latest body count?"

"Two hundred and seventy four," the red-headed Inspector replied, stifling a   
yawn as he did so. "Every one of them a know or suspected Yakuza member. Most of them   
are from the nightclub, and we may never find all the bodies."

Leon looked over at Kosaku Sanemori. "What about those Jagers we found?"

"What Jagers?" Ko replied with a snort of derision. His eyes were red from a lack   
of sleep and smoke, his clothes rumpled and dirty, and there was a mild tang of smoke   
about him that everyone else tried to ignore. "We've got a pile of junk that might be   
the remains of at least ten to twelve Jager battlesuits. We've only managed to find   
two serial numbers in that entire mess so far, and those were the ones the Knight Sabers  
tangled with and toasted I've got people working on them right now. We're still sorting   
through the remains, both human and mechanical."

"What about the ID on the Jager pilots?"

"We've managed to confirm three of them. We think the head man was one Malcolm   
Hijosama. Ex-SDF Captain until he was discharged for illegal activity, then became a   
mercenary. The Intelligence community had him active in several African states before   
he came back her to work for one of Sato's subsidiary companies. We'll know for sure   
once those two we found wake up."

"Think?"

"Well, we're still running DNA tests on the remains. Nemesis didn't leave a   
recognizable body in most cases."

Just then, Anderson walked into the room. She looked as tired as the rest of   
them, but she still managed to scowl. "We've got problems with the other gangs," she   
said flatly.

"What now?" Leon asked. He was too tired to generate any emotion at the sight   
of the freshly washed and dressed N-Police detective.

"The OCU managed to lose track of several of the major gang leaders for several   
hours last night."

Leon closed his eyes and pinched his nose. "Why do I have the feeling I am not   
going to like this?"

"Who did they lose track of?" Daley asked.

"Jimmy Chee, Adrik Smirnovski, Willie Chung, and Tomasuki Iwasaki."

"Oh shit," remarked Daley mildly.

"You said it," Leon said. "Did the OCU find them again?"

"Five hours later. They spotted Chee and Iwasaki coming out of the Golden Stallion   
over in Tinsel City."

"Which is controlled by one of the gangs Chung represent." Leon sighed and leaned   
back in his chair. "We didn't need this."

"It's not unexpected," Anderson replied. "We knew that the other gangs would   
try to take advantage of Sato's troubles."

"But we expected them to fight each other as well as Sato. The fact that two of   
the gang leaders were seen coming out of a third gang's stronghold indicates a possibility   
of an alliance of some sort." Leon leaned forward and slammed a hand on the table.   
"Damn it!" he snarled. "Everything is pointing to a major gang war, and there's nothing   
we can do to stop it!"

"Nemesis is you main concern," Anderson replied frostily.

"If those gangs go to war, Nemesis is going to be a minor matter!" Leon replied.   
He leaned back again. "Right," he said, "I want a list of all known businesses of all   
four gang leaders – Chee, Smirnovski, Chung, and Iwasaki."

"What for?" Anderson asked.

Leon looked at her, his gaze level. "There's only two ways we can stop this before   
it gets out of control. Either we stop Nemesis and allow Sato to retain control, or we   
threaten Chee and the rest by targeting their own business and arresting as many of   
their members as we can."

The blonde N-policewoman exploded. "That's stupid! We can't hold them without   
evidence!" 

"She's right," said Daley. "Their lawyers would be all over us before the inks   
were dry on their arrest warrants."

"It's either that, or risk getting innocent people killed in the crossfire.   
Iwasaki's the only one who has anything close to a code of honor – the other three   
are ruthless bastards who would shoot their own mothers if they thought it would   
increase their power and income."

"The city will be sued for millions!" Anderson continued, glaring daggers at   
Leon.

"We need to disrupt this now, before they can get going." Leon said. "We need   
to buy time, time to run Nemesis down and remove him from the equation."

"By committing a series of illegal acts ourselves?" Anderson demanded.

"Do you have a better idea?"

Anderson slumped her shoulders. "No," she replied. "Damn it, no."

Leon nodded tiredly. "If it will make you feel better, we'll start with the   
outstanding warrants and suspected criminal enterprises. That might be enough."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then hope we find Nemesis before they get their act together." Leon stood.   
"Here's what we're going to do. First, Fifth and Seventh Detachments are going to   
start hitting Chee and the other's places of business. Daley, I want you in charge   
of that mission." He looked at Anderson. "Can you get a list of outstanding warrants   
quickly?"

"Yes," she replied, her face tight with emotion.

"If you please do so? And I think you should go with Daley. Having a N-police   
representative serving some of the warrants might be a good idea." 

Anderson nodded slowly. "I'll get started on that warrant list right away." she   
turned and strode out of the room.

Leon waited until the N-Police Detective left the room before he continued, "Ko,   
I want you to stay here and hold the fort. I'll leave Second, Third, Sixth, Eighth,   
and Ninth Detachments to cover in case we have another problem beyond the current   
situation."

"Right," Ko replied. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm taking the other detachments and starting a major sweep for Nemesis."

"In a city this size?" Daley asked. "We'd need the entire SDF for that, and even   
then, that wouldn't be enough!"

"Nene's put together a list of places that are possible Nemesis hideouts. I plan   
to search them."

"That's a longshot."

"Unless we uncover more information on this Nemesis, all we have are longshots."

"What does the Chief say about all this?" Mandy Thereon, one of the detachment   
commanders asked.

"The chief is currently in 'discussions' with the Mayor and representatives of   
the Diet," Leon answered with a straight face.

"In other words, they're trying to find a way to cover their own ass," replied   
Thereon.

"And if we find Nemesis and stop the brewing gang war, they're fall all over   
themselves trying to take credit for it," finished Ko.

"And that is something new?' asked Daley.

"Let's get gear up and get ready to roll out," said Leon.

The meeting broke up. Daley loitered until he and Leon was alone. "What about   
our friend with the crew-cut?"

"I'm going to see Nene about him right now. Care to tag along?"

The redhead shrugged. "Sure. It'll take Anderson some time for that list of   
hers."

 

Alan greeted them at the door of the security office. "Guys," he said.

Daley looked at Alan in puzzlement. "Where are you off to?" he asked.

Alan looked down at the jumpsuit he was wearing instead of the normal ADP duty   
uniform, then looked up at Daley. "Physical check of the Computer network."

"How's Nene doing?" Leon asked.

The assistant security officer shrugged. "Don't know," he replied. "She told me   
to leave her alone until she was ready. She's hunched at her computer typing away like   
a good little cracker, and –"

"Alan!" Nene's voice was loud and clear. "Don't you have something to do?"

Alan looked back into the office. "On my way boss!"

Leon grinned. "She didn't take long for the position to go to her head."

Alan shook his head. "She may look like she's a cute, perky and cuddly, but   
behind those green eyes and red hair, there's a –"

"ALAN!" Nene's voice was twice as loud and more shrill then before. "If you're   
not out of here in three seconds, I'll make you check ever single millimeter of wire   
in this building, every minute, every day, until you retire!"

"I had better get going," said Alan, looking over his shoulder. "She's your   
problem for now."

When Leon and Daley entered the office, Nene was busy at her computer. "I'm   
almost in," she said, not bothering to either stop or look at them.

"How much longer?"

"A minute, three, ten, who knows? Now shut up and let me work in peace."

Leon opened his mouth to reply, but Daley placed a hand on Leon's arm, when Leon   
looked at him, the redheaded Inspector motioned towards the door with his eyes. Grumbling,   
the tall inspector followed his shorter partner out of the office.

Daley closed the door behind him, softly, as not to disturb Nene . "I think you   
should leave her alone for now," he said seriously

"I want to see how's she's doing," Leon replied, looking slightly hurt. "See if   
she needs a hand."

Daley's lips quirked into a small smile. "What could you help her with? Your   
computer skills are taxed trying to figure out how to turn you desk terminal on at   
the beginning of every shift!"

"I don't have to turn them on – they never are turned off!"

"My point exactly. Face it, Leon. You're a modern day neanderthal."

"Maybe, but I'm a good-looking neanderthal."

Daley sighed. "I know. But Nene knows what's she doing. Having you and me   
peering over her shoulder is not going to get us the data any faster."

"I know, but –"

The office door opened and Nene stuck her head out. "I've got it," she said.   
"I'm downloading it right now. Give me another five minutes to pull out of their   
system, and ten minutes after that to organize it."

"Nene," said Leon with a big grin, "I could kiss you!"

"I'll settle for a slice of chocolate cake from the cafeteria," the red-headed   
computer security officer replied with a tired smile. "And maybe a large cup of coffee."

"I'll go get it," said Daley. The redhead trotted off.

Green eyes looked at Leon. "Anything new on Nemesis?"

"Besides racking a body count bigger then most boomer rampages last night? Not   
a whole hell of a lot."

Nene grimaced. "I saw on the news. It was horrible!"

"You didn't have to see it, live, in color and smell it," Leon replied. "It's   
like trying to grab a tornado."

"Daley said you talked to Nemesis."

"If you can call it a talk. All I know is that the son of a bitch scares me."

"Scares you, how?"

"Because I now know the guy in that suit is not some nutcase with a death wish,  
but a highly trained, highly motivated warrior who is bound and determined to complete   
his mission. The fact that the mission is highly illegal and could cause a gang war   
isn't on his mind. The complete destruction of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza is."

A beep from inside the office made Nene jerk around. "The download's done," she   
said quickly. "I have to take care of this." she disappeared back into the office,   
closing the door in Leon's face.

By the time Daley returned with the reward for Nene's efforts, the young computer   
security officer had slipped out of the Pentagon's data base, covered her tracks, and   
prepared the data for viewing. After letting the two ADP Inspectors into the office,   
she sat in front of the computer and said. "All right, what now?"

"Start with the name Jackson Ng," said Leon.

Nene typed the name, and a file opened up on the screen. Nene leaned closer.   
"Let's see...Born 2005, in San Angles....Parents died when he was sixteen, Has an   
older sister by the name of Josie Ng –"

"Skip to his military record," Leon said.

"All right." Nene tapped a couple of keys and stared at the screen. "Joined the   
US Army in 2023. Spent first tour in Korea, Taiwan, and the Middle East. Applied for   
airborne training in 2026, Ranger's school in 2027, passed and assigned to the Seventy-  
Ninth Ranger Battalion in 2028. In 2030, assigned to 'Operation Templar,' with the   
rank of Sargent First Class. Wounded during 'Operation Templar, and medically discharged   
from the Army in 2032."

Daley frowned. "Why does that sound familiar?' he muttered.

"What sounds familiar?" Leon asked.

"'Operation Templar.' I heard that before. I can't remember where though."  
"Nene, what else is there on Ng?"

"Not much. Just an address and a notation that he has two artificial legs."

"Can you cross reference Ng's records with the others and see who he served   
with?"

"That could take a while. There's a couple of thousand records, at least."

"Hey, Leon," said Daley. "I have to make a couple of calls. This 'Operation   
Templar,' is giving me an itch, and I need to scratch it."

Nene looked back at the two inspectors. "Do you want me to cross reference these   
records with 'Operation Templar?"

"Do it," said Leon. "It might be the key we're looking for."

"All right."

"Daley, Make you calls and get started with hitting Chee and the others. Call   
me when you have something. Nene, when you have something, I want to know ASAP." He   
pulled out a picture of the crew-cut man Gamble had sent over. "And I especially want   
to know if you find a match for this guy in the records."

"Okay." The perky redhead reach for the piece of cake. "I'll get started right   
after I finish this."


End file.
